A World Without Sin
by LostExploring
Summary: A mysterious substance left at a crime scene leaves two officers dead.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly, where the title comes from)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 1: Benny

"Beckett." She answered, standing, automatically sliding into her jacket and patting her pocket to check for keys.

"Castle," she nodded in the direction of the elevator she was already heading toward.

"Boys." She snapped out, rattling off an address over her shoulder, eyes darting back and forth as she listened to the details before snapping her phone shut and slipping it into her jacket.

"What have we got? Castle asked with excitement tingeing his voice as he caught up to her.

She glanced up at him, opened her mouth, shut it and shook her head, looking back toward the elevator doors.

A long moment of studying her carefully blank face gave him nothing. Panic began filling him as she stepped into the elevators and turned to face the doors a moment before he stepped in, and he caught sight of her too-shiny eyes and clenched jaw.

"What is it?" a pause "Beckett?" The panic started to seep into his voice. Beckett *never* cried. Almost never. Unless it was personal.

In response, she shook her head again and took a deep breath. Exhaling sharply through her mouth, she put on what Castle called her "cop" voice, harsh and professional, yet he could hear the tenor of emotion running under the words. "Two officers down. And a third…" she trailed off, looking up at the elevator lights and blinking furiously.

"Who was it?" Castle asked quietly, a knot of dread filling his stomach. Over the almost three years of shadowing the nearly unshakable detective, he had formed acquaintances if not friendships with most of the officers at the Twelfth.

"Gary Lewis and Richard Benaldi. Gomez called it in."

"Vice." He stated, surprised.

Wordlessly, she nodded, stepping off the elevator, leaving him to trail behind.

The car trip, blessedly short, was made in silence, Castle's mind racing with questions and possible scenarios that he chose to focus on instead of the gnawing grief that had his throat threatening to close up. Not that he knew the men particularly well, but he knew them. They came regularly to the Old Haunt, played a mean game of pool and preferred old scotch. Just last month they had toasted Richard "Benny" Benaldi in congratulation of his brand-new baby boy: a now fatherless baby boy.

As they turned down the street, Castle was unsurprised to find it filled with the flashing lights of half a dozen police cars and multiple ambulances. What did surprise him was the HAZMAT vehicle.

Parking down the block, they stepped out and leaned against the car for a moment, taking in the scene. Eventually, Beckett took a breath and pushed away from the car, stepping forward. Castle fell in step beside her, bumping into her slightly and leaning into her side. Closing her eyes at the contact, she inhaled deeply, leaning into him, then straightened her shoulders. Opening her eyes, she nodded once, not quite looking at him or acknowledging his support, but there was an almost-smile on her face, or rather, a slight lessening of the frown.

Beckett flashed her badge at a nervous looking young officer as they stepped across the line into the crime scene. The building they were heading towards was a brownstone walk-up. The neighborhood was old, but relatively clean with flowerpots in several of the windows. Halfway to the building, Castle caught sight of the back of an ambulance.

\

"Hey Beckett, isn't that…"

Her head swiveled around.

"Gomez. Yeah." She responded, turning sharply and all but running toward the vehicle.

Out of the corner of his eye, Castle saw Ryan and Esposito walking toward the steps of the building, only to be directed away by yet another nervous looking beat cop toward the hazmat truck. Confused, Castle snapped his attention back to the scene before him.

Gomez was a stocky, dark Latino man with a buzz cut and a well trimmed goatee. Castle had first met the man while working a case where Vice and Homicide's cases had overlapped, and had found him to be an intelligent quiet man with an eye for detail. He was currently sitting on the tailgate of the ambulance with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and shaking violently.

"Gomez." Beckett said softly, as if trying not to spook him. He had a glazed look in his eyes as he stared down the street. "Gomez." This time a little sharper. "Gomez, look at me!" He blinked once, then looked around, dazed, finally focusing on the officer standing in front of him. "I need you to tell me what happened. Please."

"I." He broke off, mumbling in Spanish and crossing himself, eyes up on the cloudless sky, finishing with a broken, "Forgive me."

Beckett grabbed his hands, holding them steady and waited for him to resume eye contact. "I need to know," she whispered.

Gomez blinked back his tears and took a shaky breath. "I shot him. I…"

Castle saw Beckett flinch and tighten her grip at his confession, her face tightening into a blank mask.

Gomez gasped, then repeated it, tears working their way down his face. "I shot him. He killed… Oh, Benny!" and the floodgate opened, words pouring out of him, stumbling over each other. "He killed Benny with a kitchen knife and I… It was supposed to be a sting – cocaine dealers, but everyone was dead when we got their. No violence, just looked like they'd all gone to sleep on the floor, at the table. Bags of white powder everywhere, piles of powder on the table. We assumed they overdosed and started processing the scene.

"We were almost finished when Lewis comes out of the kitchen. Blood everywhere: on his hands, his face, his clothes, dripping off the knife in his hand. I hadn't heard anything. I'd been on the other side of the apartment. I asked him where Benny was, and he lunged at me. And I… I shot him, in the shoulder, just trying to take him down, didn't want him to… but he kept coming, so I shot him again. I killed him. I killed my partner. Forgive me, oh, please!" He crossed himself again and broke down sobbing.

Beckett's hands had tightened around his as he spoke, but now she gently released them, stumbling backward into Castle, who reached out an arm to steady her.

"We need to get inside," she gritted out as she turned, striding purposefully toward the building.

Castle's mind raced as they once again headed toward the crime scene. The story Gomez told left Castle incredulous and wondering if maybe he – or Lewis? Had inhaled some of what they were supposed to be processing and had a bad trip. But not cocaine. PCPs?

At the door, they were stopped and directed, as Ryan and Esposito had been, to the station that hazmat had set up. Once there, they were assisted into baggy white suits that reminded Castle of the footed pajamas that Alexis wore when she was little, except those had been fuzzy and green, and hadn't crinkled when she walked.

"Why?" Castle began, gesturing at the seemingly excessive precautions.

"It's not cocaine." Beckett replied tightly.

"PCP?" he queried

Beckett shook her head – a gesture that was lost as she pulled the hood down over her head, checking that it was secure before turning and performing the same task for him.

"Then wha-?"

"They don't know." Her voice was muffled by the suit.

Awkwardly in the ungainly suits they made their way up the steps, through the front door and the plastic barricades to an open door on the left. A suited figure stood outside the doorway, leaning heavily against the wall.

"Ryan?" Castle asked, as they went to pass him.

Ryan slowly opened his eyes, his face pale and sheened in a thin layer of sweat. He took a few deep breaths. "Sorry. It's… it's bad in there. Benny and I were in the same class at the Academy and…" He shook his head before turning to follow the pair back into the room.

Two steps in they froze. Bad didn't even begin to describe it. It was awful. Everything was white except the blood. White walls, white ceiling and tile floors, white florescent lights shining down on everything. A table occupied the space at the center of the room. A thin residue of white powder coated its surface.

A male with short blond hair that Castle guessed to be in his late twenties sat slumped onto the table, head resting on folded arms, looking for all the world like he was sleeping peacefully. Only the pallor of his features and his open, sightless eyes betrayed the truth.

He was dressed in a lab coat and white scrubs, as was the figure stretched out by the far wall lying in a patch of sunlight, pale red hair glinting in the light.

The other body in the room sprawled face down beside the table, dressed in a dark police uniform. A trail of red footprints lead out of what Castle assumed – correctly – to be the kitchen. One arm was caught under him, the other clutched a bloody butcher's knife.


	2. Cold Coffee

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly, where the title comes from)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 2: Cold Coffee

The kitchen, Castle knew, would cause him nightmares for a very long time. Benaldi, the new father, was unrecognizable. A brief glance around at the blood spattered room, and Castle reeled back out, stumbling into the main room, and then, so it looked like less of a retreat – eh, who was he kidding – to get further away from horror laying puddled on the floor, he stepped into the bedroom on the other side of the apartment.

CSU was there, dressed in hazmat suits, taking samples and snapping photos of the scene. Two more bodies occupied the space. One casually slumped on the floor leaning against the foot of a queen sized bed staring out into space, and the other sitting at a desk, head lolling back, mouth open, but thankfully, eyes closed. A cold cup of coffee sat on the desk, next to the figure's right hand. They looked so at peace, at odds with the violent deaths of the police officers in the next two rooms. Suddenly it was too much for Castle, and he stepped out of the room. Carefully he made his way through the main room, keeping his eyes straight in front of him and doing his best not to hear the voices from the kitchen as he walked out the door and assumed the position they had found Ryan in when they had entered.

A moment later, Beckett exited, squeezing his hand as she walked past and continued purposefully through the front of the building leaving Castle to follow a few minutes later.

He found her at the hazmat truck stripping off the suit, barking out orders to Ryan and Esposito who had somehow passed him in the hall and were also removing their extra layer of clothing.

As they walked back to the car on the other side of the crime scene tape, Castle envied Beckett her hard cop exterior, that she could throw on a professional no-nonsense face even after a scene like this one, but just the existence of that cold façade told him that she wasn't okay. He definitely wasn't okay. His hands were shaking, and no amount of clenching them made it better. In fact, it drew his attention to his lack of control and made it all that much worse, so eventually, he just let his arms hang limp, letting his hands twitch as they would. He tried to find something to break the tension, something that would make this somehow better, but his throat tightened against anything he could have said.

But as they neared the car, he heard something that distracted him completely: a woman's voice.

"What is the meaning of this? I demand an explanation! I live in these apartments and have for the last six years! How dare you even…"

She stood, tall and elegant, shoulders thrown back as she glared indignantly at the young beat cop that now looked not only nervous, but more than a little intimidated as she towered over him. Her clothes were elegant layers of silk draped around her body, both revealing and concealing her exceptional figure.

Castle stopped short at the sight before him as her long brown hair caught in the slight breeze, pushing it back to reveal the delicate bone structure of her face.

"Inara Reynolds," he breathed, not realizing he had spoken aloud, or how close she was until she froze and turned slowly to look at him standing just on the other side of the tape.

"Richard Castle!" she exclaimed in disbelief, her face a mask of shock, eyes wide. But she recovered quickly and her face broke into a wide smile as she pulled him into a quick hug, kissing his cheek. "Rick! How are you doing?"

"Uhh, I've been better." He replied honestly. "Look, Inara, you really…" he swallowed, "Really do not want to go into your building. It's…" He shook his head, unable to put into words, for once not minding his failure as a writer to not find the perfect phrase to describe what he had seen.

"But maybe…" he glanced at Beckett who had crossed the tape and was waiting impatiently at her car for him to finish his conversation. "Maybe you could help us fill in a bit of information. Would you mind coming down to the Twelfth to give a statement?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Of course, I would be more than happy to. I have meetings throughout the rest of today. Would tomorrow morning be acceptable?" her words calm and graceful now that she wasn't trying to bully her way into her building. "And I would love the chance to catch up with you. It's been too long. How is Alexis doing? Maybe we could all have dinner sometime?" A soft smile played on her lips that Richard couldn't help but respond to as he unconsciously stepped closer.

"Tomorrow would be excellent. And Alexis and I would love to have dinner with you. She missed you something fierce when you left the last time, but ahh… Alexis is out of town for the week with her boyfriend's family, and I don't know how long this case will last… or how long you are in town?" There was an edge of hope and sadness in his voice as he ended the sentence on a question.

Stepping forward, she closed the gap between them to place a light hand on his arm. "I don't know, Rick, you know how it is, my schedule is never very firm, but it looks like I will be in town for longer this time." She shrugged gracefully, but sadly.

"Castle, you coming?" Beckett called across the roof of her vehicle as she opened the door.

He glanced over his shoulder. "I gotta…" he pointed his thumb toward his partner. "Uhh, I'll see you… at the precinct?"

"I… yeah." She replied softly, her fingers lingering a moment, playing with the fabric of his sleeve before sliding down his arm. Then she straightened and replied more firmly, "Yes."

He smiled softly in return, a smile that filled his eyes, but barely made it to his mouth.

"Good answer," his voice barely a whisper. And with that he turned and jogged over to the car.


	3. Hot Coffee

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly, where the title comes from)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 3: Hot Coffee

The next morning, Castle arrived with more spring in his step than he had left with the previous day. He made his way to his partner's desk clutching two large cups of steaming coffee and a white paper sack.

Beckett sat engrossed in her computer screen, leaning forward with her lower lip caught between her teeth, fingers tapping furiously at the keys. A murder board was set up across the walkway to her left. He stood by his chair looking down at her for a long moment, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Absently, she reached over and wrapped her fingers around a to-go cup sitting next to her keyboard.

Castle tapped his foot, trying to figure out how to cross his arms without spilling the coffee.

"Got something to say, Castle?" Beckett asked without looking up.

"I'm wounded, Beckett."

At that she looked up, confused, waiting for him to finish his thought.

"At how quickly you replace me."

She cocked an eyebrow at him still waiting.

He gestured with the cup of coffee closest to her toward the cup she was holding. Her lips quirked as she brought her cup up to her lips. Tipping her head back, she swallowed before pulling the cup back and meeting his eyes with a saucy grin on her face. Shaking the cup to show it was empty, she dropped it into the trashcan next to her desk and reached for the cup he was holding.

She smirked into her cup of coffee as he flopped into the chair next to her desk and dropped the pastry bag onto her keyboard.

"So what've we got?" He leaned forward eagerly to peer at her screen.

* * *

><p>"No… no." Inara whispered quietly, eyes wide and face pale. Castle and Beckett sat across from her in a conference room. Beckett had wanted to take her into one of the interrogation rooms, but Castle had stepped in.<p>

"She's not a suspect, at least not yet, and maybe. No, I know, making a little effort toward her comfort will go a long way in making cooperate. She's a good person. I trust her. I trust her with Alexis, but if you treat her like a criminal, she will…"

"She will what, Castle? I've got six bodies in the morgue right now – two of whom were friends. I don't have time to baby all of my - "

He cut her off before she could finish the sentence and accuse Inara of being a suspect. "I'm not asking you to baby her, just… she's not a criminal, but she might know something. She has ways of knowing things, and right now she is coming in willingly, wanting to cooperate. But if you treat her like a criminal, she will shut you down. And she will do it with poise and grace and an infuriatingly unbreakable calm. Just… please?"

And so Beckett relented, leading Castle and Inara into a conference room that Castle noted wryly was set up exactly like an interrogation room, with a table in the center, but four chairs around the table instead of the usual three, and actual windows on the back wall looking out into the city instead of the two-way mirror.

As they stepped into the room, Castle turned to Beckett, placing a hand at the small of Inara's back to turn her toward the detective.

"Detective Beckett, may I introduce Ambassador Inara Reynolds. Ambassador, Detective Beckett."

"Ah, yes, Ambassador Reynolds, thank you for coming down here, please have a seat." Beckett waved a hand at the empty chairs across the table from her, quirking an eyebrow at Castle. The 'Ambassador' title was a surprise to her. All she had been able to gather was that they were old friends.

"Oh, please," Inara said with a smile, "call me Inara."

Castle slid into the seat next to Beckett and looked at Inara. She met his eyes and subtly glanced over at the detective, then back at him, a question in her eyes. He gave a slight shake of his head and a small frown. She quirked her eyebrows at that and he shrugged, dropping his eyes to the table, a bashful smile on his lips. Inara's eyebrows rose again at this, and she turned her interest to the detective who had noticed the exchange and was watching the ambassador with narrowed eyes. Inara smiled at her, and then returned her attention to Castle, giving him an encouraging smile and a slight nod. Castle's eyes widened slightly, the beginnings of a goofy grin on his face which he quickly tamped down, shaking his head again in the negative.

Beckett cleared her throat, growing tired of the silent conversation that she wasn't quite following.

"Oh, right. Inara, do you mind if we record this conversation, in case we need to refer to it again?" Castle asked as Beckett pulled out a recorder and set it on the table.

"No, of course that is acceptable." Inara replied graciously, voice soft.

"Excellent!" Castle exclaimed, "So, Inara, where have you been?" he asked excitedly.

Inara glanced at Detective Beckett, but she seemed content to let Castle ask the questions, so she returned her attention to her friend.

"I work for the state department," she prefaced for the detective, "and have been stationed in China for the past three years in Shanghai. Before that, I worked in Japan and Thailand. I met Richard when I was home on leave before being stationed in Tokyo," she added, answering Beckett's unasked question.

"I arrived state-side three days ago. The first day I spent sleeping, and since then, I've been in meetings. Yesterday when I saw you, I was coming home to pick up some files before returning to yet another meeting. Do you mind if I ask you what was going on there? It seemed like there was more emergency response than is normal."

"Just a few more questions, first," Castle responded. "What apartment do you live in?"

"Apartment 157"

"First floor?"

She nodded.

"Do you know anything about the occupants of apartment 134?"

Inara's face stilled as she thought. "Jared and Elaina Hopski: a married couple in their late twenties. They worked at the docks in customs for the Blue Sun Corporation. The company paid for their housing. They had been working there for seven years, and living in those apartments since last September after they were married."

Castle grinned, a challenge in his eyes. "What about other apartments 136... 150?" He rambled off numbers at random.

"Apartment one thirty-six, also Blue Sun, Joseph Scott and Raymond Edwards, roommates since college. They attended NYU, majoring in business and accounting, respectively. They've been working there for 2 years and are both 26 years old."

She paused, leaning forward, eyes crinkling at Castle. "Apartment 141, Pakistani family, three children ages 5, 14 and 17, all girls. The father owns a small restaurant two blocks over and the wife stays at home. 143, single mother of two, works night shifts at a diner down the street and supplements her income with selling ecstasy and meth. And yes, apartment 150, usually stays empty, but is rented by a doctor who spends most of his time out of the country working with Doctors Without Borders. His last trip was to Uganda, will last a total of four months and he will be returning in two weeks. I always know who I'm living with, Richard. You should know that." She finished with a glint in her eyes.

Castle leaned back, smiling. "So cool," he murmured.

Inara sighed and laughed, shaking her head. "It's not a parlor trick, Richard, you know that. My life often depends on knowing everything about everyone around me. I want the place I come home to safe. Now. Can you tell me what is going on."

"Ms. Reynolds," Beckett leaned forward, "can you identify these people for us. She slid four photos across the table to her, close-ups of pale white faces slack with death, eyes wide open.

Inara looked at the first picture, then slid them out in front of her to see all at once.

"Oh," she gasped, and then slipping into a more professional voice, "Yes. Jared Andrew Hopski, age 27, Elaina Jewel Rainer Hopski, age 26, Joseph Scott, Raymond Edwards," she said, pointing to each photograph in turn. "What happened to them?"

"That's what we are trying to figure out." Beckett slid another photo across the table.

"No…" Inara stared in horror at the picture. "Oh, no… no. Not again. It can't be. Please." The picture slid out of her nerveless fingers.

Castle shot a shocked and somewhat outraged look at Beckett at the beginning of Inara's reaction. When she dropped the photo, Castle snatched it up and looked at it, expected to see the broken body of Benny, and glanced back up to Inara in surprise upon finding a completely different crime scene photo. It was the man that she had calmly named Joseph Scott only moments before, but this one showed him peacefully slumped as they had found him at the foot of the bed, staring out into the room.

"It's… no. It can't be. It can't be." A tear slipped down Inara's face.

"What is it?" Castle asked gently.

"I think I know what killed these men."


	4. White Powder

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 4: White Powder

Beckett waited a long moment, not wanting to ask the obvious question. But she couldn't help the impatient tapping of her fingers against the table as she waited for the ambassador to gain control of her emotions enough to continue.

"I… I'm sorry. It's the… if it is what I am thinking it is, it is a white powdery substance that these men and Elaina either inhaled or ingested." She paused, waiting for conformation. When Beckett gave her a slight nod, Inara closed her eyes and tightened her lips for a long moment and then continued.

"They call it the Pax, that is, G-23 Paxilon Hydrochlorate. It was supposed to… There was an uprising at one of the factories. The workers…" She took a deep breath.

"Many people would have died. There were over seven thousand workers, and they were becoming increasingly violent. The Pax was supposed to calm the population. And, well it did. But it worked too well. They added it to the air processors and the workers became lethargic. They stopped working, stopped eating, drinking, talking. And then they stopped moving, stopped breathing. They just… let themselves die. And there was nothing that the factory owners, or the government could do at that point. There's no cure, no known antidote for it.

"But the… the Pax had the opposite effect on about a tenth of a percent of the workers. Their aggressor response increased exponentially. It drove them to madness. They…" Inara swallowed hard, unable to continue.

Beckett slid another photo across the table facedown toward her.

"This?" She asked tightly.

* * *

><p>"Wait!" Beckett gasped into the silence that had descended on the conference room. "The… Pax? It affects everyone it comes in contact with?"<p>

Inara's red-rimmed eyes snapped up from the photograph she had been staring at for the past 5 minutes. "Yes, everyone exposed in a contained location. Thankfully the building wasn't on central air, so it only affected people in the one apartment."

"How long does it take for symptoms to manifest?" Beckett asked, her voice sharp with intensity.

"It depends on the exposure: anywhere from two to fifteen hours."

"And the symptoms?"

"Only two responses, apathy or aggression."

Castle was standing up as Beckett pulled her phone out of her pocket, their eyes locked. "Shit." Castle whispered.

"Yeah." Beckett agreed, pulling the phone up to her ear.

Inara watched on in confusion. Castle glanced at her, opened his mouth to give her an explanation, snapped his mouth shut and followed Beckett out of the room.

* * *

><p>"No. I need to speak to him. Immediately… He…? He didn't? Shit! … No, I'm sorry, I just. Is there another contact number for him?"<p>

An agitated Beckett paced beside the murder board. The phone on her desk rang. She tossed it a fleeting look and continued pacing, stopping only to scrawl a number and address onto the murder board.

Another phone rang, then another.

"Detective Ryan."

"Hola Chica."

Castle turned toward the pair of detectives, who both stood up suddenly, casting an anxious glance at each other, before turning, together, toward Beckett.

Instantly she noticed their alarm.

"What is it?"

"Lanie." Esposito answered.

"Bodies. Multiple." Came the answer from Ryan.

"Where?" she asked, turning to Ryan first.

He rattled off the address, and she turned to the elevator.

"Wait!" Esposito called after her.

She spun to face him, waiting but impatient.

"You're going to want to hear this, Beckett." Esposito added softly, taking a step closer to her.

Inara stepped out of the conference room coming to stand beside Castle and watching the interchange between the detectives with interest. Castle bent his head toward her, putting a hand on her shoulder, not quite taking his eyes off of his partner.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I…I don't know," came her hesitant answer. "So much violence. That's part of why I came back here, left China."

The detectives stood silently, Ryan glancing between Beckett and Esposito, waiting for Esposito to talk. Finally with a small shake of his head, he opened his mouth.

"The prints on the knife came back. There was a smudged print from Lewis, but he wasn't holding it." He waited a beat before adding softly, "Gomez was."

Beckett's gaze shot to Inara, who immediately understood and started shaking.

"He's loose." Castle murmured. "Inara." He gripped her shoulder tighter. "Inara, you won't be able to stay at your place for a while. Stay at the loft. You know it's safe." Trust her to know about the occupants of his building as well.

"No, I couldn't possibly."

They began walking toward the elevator to join the detectives, talking quietly as Beckett filled the boys in on what Inara had shared.

"It wouldn't be a burden. In fact, I'd appreciate knowing that you are safe. Please."

"Richard." Her eyes drifted toward Beckett. It was obvious that she was listening to their conversation despite the fact that she was still briefing her team.

He was oblivious to the hurt look his partner shot him as he continued on, ignoring Inara's interruption. "I know you can take care of yourself, but please. I'll be staying late working on this case, so I'll barely be there. And Martha would love to see you again. It's been too long, really."

She sighed in defeat and Castle brightened.

"Excellent!" he responded, though she hadn't spoken a word. "There's still a chest of your things in the guest room… I didn't look in it though," he added quickly. Too quickly.

She smiled slightly, the shaking calming. "Thank you."

"You still know how to get in?" He was almost giddy. His mood swings made her dizzy, but calmed the terror sinking in her stomach.

"Of course."


	5. Candy Bars

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 5: Candy Bars

Inside her building, Kate leaned against the wall and slid out of her shoes as she waited for the elevator. It wasn't quite eight yet, but the captain had sent them home. Another team is taking over for the night shift, will catch them up in the morning. Maybe a fresh team could see what they were missing.

They had no leads. None. It was appalling. After staring at so many corpses and knowing who had murdered them and why, not catching him was all the more frustrating. But there was no predictability to his movements, no way of tracking him. Emotionally, mentally, physically exhausted, for once she had agreed with her captain about going home. She didn't think she could take looking at one more broken body today. No more mutilation.

That first scene. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth, willing the memory away as the elevator dinged open. They had pulled up in their squad cars, Esposito and Ryan out first, the chime of bells as they pulled open the doors of the convenience store, stepping in together… then stepping out again before she had shut the door of her car, Castle still unbuckling. Esposito's face pale as he leaned against the side of the building breathing hard. Never before had she seen Esposito step away from a scene like that. Never. Ryan just stood in front of the doors, letting them fall shut behind him, glazed eyes shifting around unseeing. It made her stomach churn just seeing them looking so broken.

But she had made her way determinately up anyways, steeling herself for whatever she might find. Before she reached the door, she could see the blood splattered against the bottom of it on the inside, a smeared red handprint higher up. The owner, an older woman behind the counter, a man in the entrance way, and two little girls in the candy aisle, visible from the entrance were all dead and gruesomely so. Broken glass and soda and candy bars mixed in the slick blood. And no clue of where Gomez was headed next. They took their time processing that scene, carefully trying not to leave footprints through the blood, but by the third, they were just looking for security feeds and traffic cameras that Gomez was surprisingly adept at avoiding.

Her hands shook as she reached for her keys and she glared at them, willing herself to be steady enough to let herself into her own apartment. On the third try, the key slid in and she slammed through the door, eagerly taking her frustration out on the inanimate object. Shoes dropped from her hands as she turned the deadbolts. She needed a shower. Blood on her clothing was impossible to avoid. She would throw them out in the morning, she decided, stripping out of them on her way to the bathroom. The harsh lights showed pale skin with wide haunted eyes as she glanced briefly at the mirror and away again. She wanted no reminder of what she saw that day, but it was evident in her eyes.

Scalding water washed away the grit and grim of the day and loosened aching muscles. And finally, in the privacy of her shower stall, she could let her guard down enough to cry for all the senseless deaths that would have no answers, no closure, because there was no answer for why. Too many. Too much. She sank down, pulled her knees to her chest under the pounding water.

…**.**

_**A/N: Short chapter, sorry, but I'm posting 2 at once to make up for it. They go together, but I didn't quite want them occupying the same space if that makes sense.**_

_**Thank you for the reviews. I love hearing what ya'll think, and the encouragement is definitely appreciated. Love the suggestions of who Inara might be in Castle's life! They made me giggle :). And Melody3173, I agree with you. Though I love Mal/Inara's interaction, I would lose respect for them both if they actually did end up together in Firefly.**_


	6. Blue Sun

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 6: Blue Sun

Castle stumbled into his loft around eight that night, tossing his keys to the side table and making a bee-line for his liquor cabinet. He steadied his hands on a glass, willing them not to drop it, and set it down heavily on the counter. From his living room, he heard the peeling laughter of his mother, followed by a soft, rich laugh of the cultured ambassador.

"Yes. It was just like that, and then *he* said…"

Castle pulled a bottle of expensive scotch off the shelf and poured it into the glass, eyes focused on the pale liquid, trying to focus his mind on the solid objects surrounding him, and not…

"Bad day?" A soft voice asked from the doorway.

He turned, pulling the heavy tumbler away from his lips, watching her as the fiery liquid slid down his throat. Her lips tightened in response to the expression on his face.

"Bad day." He gritted out in response, downing the rest of his drink and turning to look at the bottle of alcohol on the counter.

"Tell me about it?" She asked, crossing gracefully to stand next to him, her slippers silent against the cold tile floor. One hand came to rest on the bottle, her other hand at her chest holding a shawl draped casually around her shoulders.

His eyes shifted between her and the bottle before setting his glass down with a solid thud and turning to her, leaning his hip heavily into the counter. "How are you involved in this?" he asked tightly.

Her eyes widened, a hurt expression flitting across her face before it smoothed into a tense, but pleasant expression. "I thank you for not asking it that way in front of your detective this morning." Her tone was defensive and resigned.

"I trust you, Inara, but I know your job, or bits of it. What kind of ambassador needs lock-picking skills or has access to complete dossiers of anyone she wants? And no." He stopped at the surprised look on her face, her mouth open just slightly. "No. Today, I don't really want to know about your job. What I do want to know is if you know anything about this that will help us stop this."

He filled his glass again, took a sip as he awaited his response.

Tears filled her eyes and she swallowed hard, looking down. Fingers traced aimlessly across the counter top. "I advised them. The government..."

Glancing up, her fingers still, gripping the counter. "When the factory workers were protesting, when it looked like… Richard, don't look at me like that! We didn't know. It was supposed to save lives. Have you ever seen a riot where thousands of people are all packed together? It's like a meat grinder. People die. Violently."

Castle gave a short, humorless laugh. "Violently? People died 'violently' today because of that drug and what it did to a friend of mine. He's a cop. Was a cop. One of the good guys. But now?"

His eyes narrowed at her. "He's a monster, Inara, and we still haven't caught him, so tomorrow, my guess is we will have more crime scenes like we did today."

She stepped back as he leaned into her space, an intensity in his face that scared her, and the pain in his voice hurt.

"Richard?" she asked quietly.

He took in her expression and abruptly snapped back, barking out another laugh. "No, Inara. No. This is plain old regular anger and desperation. Men, women, children left out in the open, Inara. How do we stop this? How do we stop him?"

"I… I don't know. But I don't think that is your biggest problem."

"What do you mean?" He demanded.

She took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh as she reached for his glass and took a gulp of his drink, closing her eyes as the liquid slid down her throat. "Why is the Pax here? After what happened at the Blue Sun factory, it was all destroyed. Whoever has it knows exactly what it does. Who is their intended target? Was this an intentional demonstration, or an accident that gave you enough warning to possibly prevent a massacre?"

She brought his drink up to her lips again, watching him over the rim as his expression tightened even more as he considered the implications behind her words.

"Oh, shi- We forgot." Guilt and hopelessness laced his voice. "In everything… how could we have..." But he knew how they could have forgotten about the original four victims. It was the extra 16 victims they had acquired today, seemingly random except for the horrible mix of brutality and precision evident in the wounds of all the victims. Five separate calls. All the police resources devoted to stopping their former comrade. I have to call…" He was pulling his phone out of his pocket, his mind already two steps ahead of the conversation his mouth was still attempting to hold with her.

"You love her." Her eyes were soft, but there was an intensity in her look as she studied him.

Castle jerked visibly at the unexpected words. "Yes." he replied flatly after a moment.

Inara laughed lightly at the myriad of emotions that flickered past his eyes, confusion, realization, surprise, which was gone in a second.

"I read people for a living, Richard, untangle their secrets. Not that it was hard with how you look at her."

She placed a hand against his arm. "So the question is, with how badly this case is affecting both of you, why are you here, and not making sure she doesn't have to drink it away alone?"

"It's not…" He began.

"It is." She interrupted smoothly, "She loves you. It's as clear on her face as it was on yours." He looked incredulous, so she elaborated. "Plus she obviously despises me, was uncomfortable with me staying here, thinking that we were…" she smiled lightly. "Thank you, by the way, for letting me stay here. I really did need a few things from that chest, and would have felt badly for breaking in without your permission. I have more debriefings and meetings, so I will be out of your hair in the morning. But really, you should go see her, make sure she is okay. Talk to her, let her know there is nothing going on between us." At his hesitation, she added, "Have either of you had dinner yet?"


	7. Dinner?

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 7: Dinner?

Twenty minutes later, Beckett opened the door to the writer. Her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" She was glad to see him, she really was. The walls of her apartment had felt like they were closing in on her, and she had turned on every light in the place and still it felt too dark. But what was he doing here when he had company of the female variety back at his own apartment? And carrying… food? It wasn't take out food, but a bag of groceries in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

"I, uhh?" He mumbled. He took in her appearance: the tired smile on her lips despite her haggard expression. Her hair, loose around her shoulders was leaving wet streaks on her over-sized T-shirt, and her baggy sweats left her toes just barely sticking out. She was breathtaking. "Have you had dinner?"

"No, but," she still hadn't stepped out of the doorway to let him in; "don't you have somewhere you should be? Like back at the loft with your company?" It came out snarkier than she intended, but she really couldn't stand the thought of him coming from her. "Wouldn't you rather be spending your night with her?" Again, snarky – and possessive? It made her mentally cringe.

"Obviously not." He replied, eyes twinkling, leaning against the door jam.

"So tell me, do you give keys out to all the beautiful women you meet?" Her eyes widened. Did she really just ask that? She fought the impulse to clamp her hands over her mouth. It was too late anyways.

Castle leaned in, eyes darkening. "Is this your way of asking for a key?" he asked, voice low, a teasing smile on his face.

She blushed furiously. Not what she meant. And he just called her beautiful. "Not if you're also giving keys out to any floozy that comes along." She snipped.

Castle looked affronted for a moment, and then laughed heartily. "Inara doesn't have a key to the loft, but that woman _could_ work her way into any man's bedroom if she wanted to." A long pause while he stared down at Beckett's shocked and incensed expression. "And past just about any building security systems if what she claims is to be believed."

He waited a beat for what he was saying to register.

"She broke in?"

"I don't think it's considered that if she has permission, is it? She doesn't even own a key to her own place – for security reasons. But I think her husband does."

Husband? _Husband?_

She must have asked it out loud or maybe it was just the gasp that snuck past her defenses, but Castle was grinning even wider at her and nodding his head slightly. "So can I come in? I was thinking about having pasta for dinner?"

She fell back a step, allowing him to step past her and into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and sliding the bolts home.

"So, what'd ya bring me?" she asked, coming up behind him in the kitchen.

"I was thinking chicken alfredo, garlic bread, salad and a little red wine?" He asked, unpacking ingredients onto her counter.

She was opening her mouth to agree when he gave her an impish grin, "And though I hadn't actually planned it this way…" He pulled out a key ring and dangled it in front of her, holding a key by the tip between thumb and forefinger.

"Castle!" she laughed, backhanding his chest lightly.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows at her, jiggling the keys so they clinked together.

"No, Castle, that's a definite no."

He sighed dramatically before stuffing them back into his pocket. "If you change your mind, you'll let me know, though, right?" he asked, the puppy-dog pleading look in his eyes.

Rolling her eyes, she reached for the lettuce and tomatoes on her counter, ignoring his question. He however, wasn't finished, and after a few minutes of working together in silence, he continued. "You know," the teasing had dropped from his voice, "Despite my public persona, when I'm at home, I like my privacy – to just be able to spend time with my family, to relax. Like Inara said this morning, home is somewhere you want to feel safe." He paused, meeting her eyes. "There are currently only three Casa Castle keys in circulation. But the offer does stand whenever… Whenever. We'd love to have you there."

Beckett smiled into her salad, her back turned to him so he couldn't see how his words affected. She shouldn't care. It shouldn't affect her. The sincerity of his words shouldn't steal her breath like it did, but the implication behind the words were powerful. He trusted her. She let the feeling that caused to wash over her for a couple of breaths.

And then he opened his mouth again. "Besides, you already stole the key to my heart." His tone told her he was joking again, that he meant it to sound at least as cheesy it sounded.

"Uhhg" Kate rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him, biting her lip to fight the smile that threatened her face. "If only I could find the key to your mouth. Without you talking, I'd finally have some peace and quiet." She teased.

"I'm sure I could find other ways to occupy my mouth," his eyes glinted at her.

"Castle!"

"Though, I couldn't guarantee it'd be quiet…" he leered.

Her eyes twinkled at him belying the scowl on her lips, a challenge in her expression. "I swear Castle!" She snapped her knife down through the tomato and into the cutting board with a sharp thunk. "If you don't shut up, I'll…" she stopped short, met his eyes.

"Okay." He mumbled softly, sincerity shining in his eyes. "Okay. Sorry."

It was too sincere. Her words were intended to be lighthearted, the stress of the day making her tone harsher than intended. It was innocent, she knew, appreciated it, actually, how it distracted her from a truly horrific day. She was not as exasperated as her tone made her sound. But she couldn't find the words. How much it meant to her that he was here, that he cared. That he had a house guest occupying herself in his loft because it was her that he cared about - because she needed him. More than she was willing to admit. Tears pricked at her eyelids. Unable to maintain eye contact, she dropped her gaze to her cutting board… to the chunks of tomatoes and thin red liquid dripping off her knife.

The knife fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers, hitting the counter before spinning and clattering to the floor as she stumbled backward. Her stomach twisted and she turned and fled from the room.

Moments later, Rick heard retching coming from her bathroom. A flush, and then water was running.

Beckett spent a long moment staring at herself in the mirror before emerging.

He was waiting for her just outside the kitchen, watching her, observing her, concern etched in every line of his face. Upon seeing her, he offered her a slight smile, but didn't move from his place leaning against the wall. Slowly she approached, eyes down, unable to meet his. She halted before him, toes nearly touching his, looking down at his shoes. "I…" She glanced up at his face. Sad, worried, but not scared worried. Love-worried, the look her dad used to give her, the look on his face when Alexis was upset. Unable to look away, unable to continue, she took two shuddering breaths before burying her face in his chest as the tears finally broke through.

Instantly his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly into him - almost too tight, squeezing her chest to his, arms tense, strong. Her hands came up, wrapping into his shirt, clinging to him as she choked out a sob.

"Shh, Kate, shh, it's okay." He murmured into her hair, the rumble of his chest, his concern, making her cling harder, tears soaking his shirt.

"You know…you know I'd never…" she stuttered out into his shirt. "I'd never… Not really. I couldn't…" she couldn't complete the thought. All the images of bloodied bodies flashing through her mind, the image of Gomez in the back of the ambulance after killing his partner, and – they now knew – Benny. The horror on his face. The… no. She shuddered against him. She couldn't bear to lose him.

"I know Kate, I know." His hand came up, smoothing her damp hair, whispering in her ear. "You wouldn't hurt me. You'd never." His fingers sliding through her hair slowly soothed her. "I love you Kate. I'd never intentionally hurt you. And I know. Shh, it's okay. You love me and would never hurt me. It's okay. I know." He soothed over and over, repeating the words until she relaxed against him.

Her arms loosened and slid around his waist. He felt the moment when what he was saying registered with her. Muscles tensed again as her back straightened. She pulled back to look at him, but didn't pull away, her hands falling to his hips, holding onto his belt.

He met her eyes steadily when she looked up. For the first moment, she just studied his expression. It was concerned but calm, no denial, no fear. She quirked an eyebrow at him then, clearly asking, 'You know?' And 'Why would you say…?' It crossed all the unspoken lines they had set between them. He arched an eyebrow in return, a challenging smirk on his lips, daring her to deny it. Oh. Oh that. She couldn't threaten to shoot him while standing here wrapped in his arms blubbering about how she'd never hurt him.

She scowled up at him, eyes dancing, as she playfully slapped him on the chest, suddenly okay. Because he was right, and he was teasing her about it. He laughed lightly at her reaction, thankful to see her closer to her usual self, though her eyes were still red-rimmed. His arms relax around her, preparing himself for her to step away and pretend nothing ever happened, not minding – it's how they are – and he knows that even if it's never mentioned, it's also not forgotten.

So what happens next stuns him into utter stillness. She leans back into him, pressing her face into the buttons of his shirt and whispers "Yes," so softly he's afraid that he's imagined it, and lingers against him, soaking in his warmth, the safety of his arms. Then steps back to look up at his face, a soft smile gracing her lips.

And he's slack-jawed, unable to move, but she waits him out, waits for that smile that fills his eyes, but is soft and small on his lips. "So," he manages when his lungs remember how to work, "dinner?"


	8. Peace

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 8: Peace

He pulls gently away from her, fingers laced around hers, tugging her with him into the kitchen.

The chicken is sizzling in its pan, the smell making her realize exactly long it's been since she last ate. That bearclaw with her coffee. And it would have been until her next bearclaw in the morning if he hadn't come over. Not that she'd admit it to him. What had she just told him? Yes. That. Maybe she did.

He pulled her with him over to the stove with him before draping an arm casually around her waist, trying to give her space, but unable to force himself away when she still had that look of vulnerability lingering in her eyes… and the fact that she wasn't fighting him, but leaning just slightly into his side.

She loved him.

Kate. Loved him.

It was a heady feeling. That, combined with smell of her freshly washed hair was near overwhelming. But right now, there is too much going on that must take priority. And she wouldn't appreciate it tomorrow when she wasn't small and hurt if he took advantage now.

Stirring the pasta, he fished out a noodle and popped it in his mouth. Finished. Draining the water into the sink, he dished the noodles onto a couple of plates.

And she steps away to pour the wine. Sees the salad. The salad without tomatoes. The cutting board and knife were gone, as were the splatters on the floor. She glanced in the sink for the knife. Not there.

"Castle." She was not going to cry again. Really.

He turned, holding her plate out to her, meeting her eyes.

"Thank you." Emotion catching in her voice.

He gave her a shy smile as he stepped around her toward the living room. "Always."

They sit on the couch at opposite ends. Kate has her legs tucked underneath herself, turned to face him, her plate balanced on her thighs, wine glass on the coffee table. So many things he wanted to say to her, to ask her if she really loved him. But not while she was hurting, not while this case was still tearing her to pieces.

As much as he hated it, he had information she needed. Taking a deep breath, he set his plate onto the table. "I talked to Inara before I came here tonight," he began, watching as the information sank in and she sat up straighter, going into cop mode. The tenderness leaves her eyes as her gaze sharpens, concentrating on his words, picking apart their meaning, discerning how the information fits with what she already knows. He loves seeing her mind work, the shifting expressions on her face.

"This started with Blue Sun. The factory in China was owned by Blue Sun. I looked it up. It's a pharmaceutical company. This new drug – Pax." He laughed humorlessly. "It means peace. They tested it on their own employees. They know what it does. And they brought it here. Why? What are they planning on doing with it?"

"Gomez's notes from his investigation." Kate gasped. She turned quickly and Rick reached out a hand to catch her plate before it slid off her lap. Reaching behind her, she produced a thick folder from the wooden floor.

They spent the next several hours combing over the case files, and while they came up with no definite answers, they at least had a clear line of attack for the following day.

The prospect of leads allowed Kate to relax slightly, and Castle noticed her start to nod off, eyes half closing with her head rested on her arm that was stretched out across the back of the couch. After the second time she faded out mid-sentence, he laughed softly at her. "Kate. Go to bed. We have a plan for tomorrow, but you need your rest."

"No, I'm…" but she had to stifle a yawn mid-argument and smiled ruefully at him.

"Really. You need to sleep, and I need to get back home, but I want to know for sure you're okay and are going to actually get some rest tonight."

She nodded shyly at him, standing to take their dishes into the kitchen before walking him to her door. They stood at the entrance for several long moments staring at each other in silent conversation, their eyes saying everything they didn't dare say aloud. As he turned to leave, she called after him.

"Rick," she paused, biting her lip. "Call me when you get home, so I… so I know."

He gave her an understanding smile and nodded just slightly before stepping into the elevator.

The next morning, when he stepped off the elevator into the bullpen, he could see Esposito flipping through files.

"Exsanguinated? Nobody knows what that means." He huffed under his breath.

As Castle passed, he could see it was a stack of coroner reports that Esposito was scanning through.

Beckett looked up from her desk. "Bled out," she translated before turning back to her computer.

"Sanguine," Castle elaborated, as if in an English lecture, "Bloody. Also means hopeful." He cocked his head to the side for a moment, eyes twinkling. "Does that mean that exsanguinate could also mean to exude hope?"

"Not in this case, bro," Esposito replied, holding up a photo of the vic.

Castle shuddered and turned away to stare at the murder boards. There were two set up, one for the initial four deaths the Vice team had found, and a separate one for the subsequent deaths caused by Gomez and his exposure to the Pax.

The timeline for the sleeping corpses now shows the exposure at the Blue Sun factory as well as the shipment the G-23 Paxilon Hydrochlorate most likely came in to the United States on. Gomez had a few names that the people in the apartment were in contact with and Ryan is tracking down addresses to bring them in for questioning.

On the other board, two more bodies have shown up since they went home last night, and their positions are marked on a map at the top right corner of the board. They are trying to track him, to predict his next move, but so far there is no pattern, no predictability.

Beckett slips out of her chair to stand next to him, leaning against the side of her desk, reaching for her coffee without looking at him. A smile crinkles her eyes as their fingers brush, both pretending not to acknowledge the other.

"What is it they're targeting?" she murmurs under her breath, mostly to herself, but knowing he's listening.

"Peace." It's not quite a response. He's lost in his own thoughts, their brainstorming running parallel to each other, waiting for something to click into place, for the lines to merge. "I wonder if that's still the goal…"

Beckett's head snaps up and she looks rapidly between him and the murder board, a thought half formed lighting her eyes.


	9. Going in

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 9: Going in

She's barely seated at her desk, pulling her keyboard towards herself when her phone rings. "Beckett." And then she's slamming her chair back, pushing away from her desk. "Castle. Ryan. Esposito," she calls over her shoulder, sprinting for the elevator.

They're up in an instant, following her.

"Need an address, Beckett." Esposito calls after her.

"And to know what's going on?" Ryan asks.

The other two detectives glance back at him as the elevator opens.

"What? It would help." He responds, shrugging sheepishly as they step into the box, shrinking a little at Beckett's glare.

"Gomez. Warehouse district. He's still there. It is. Was? A bloodbath, but the workers fought back, detained him some. If we get there in time, maybe all this can be over." She's excitement and steel, the energy radiating off of her.

The elevator doors open and the detectives and writer sprint into the parking lot to their squad cars.

Four car doors slam almost simultaneously, two engines roar to life, and then the squealing tires momentarily drown out the sirens. Castle spends a moment orienting himself to the sickening gut-wrenching turns the vehicle is making before pulling his bullet-proof "Writer" vest out from under the seat and struggling into it. They shoot through an intersection on a red light, Castle praying that the sirens are enough to keep them from being plowed into from the side. And it is. They make it through two more red lights, speedometer pushing 80, the boys right behind them.

Hearts pounding, they pull into an open cement lot in front of an old warehouse. It's dingy looking, but trucks parked near the loading docks and piles of crates show that it's still in use. Only the lack of visible employees makes it seem abandoned.

A SWAT team has already set up a staging area about a hundred yards from the building. A man approaches, offering to loan them extra protective gear. Castle excitedly takes the proffered helmet, squashing down anxiety. He's seen the wounds it should help prevent. As they suit up, they stand in a group of their own; a unit within the unit.

Beckett approaches the SWAT commander, and Castle notices that the sirens are off. An eerie hush surrounds them for a moment. The parking lot is full of silent armored men standing clustered around a few black vehicles outside an old warehouse.

A scream echoes out of the corrugated steel building and several of the strong men flinch.

"We're going in." Beckett states, and from her tone, the writer and detectives realize it's not the first time the words have left her lips.

"It's a hostage situation. There's protocol…" The other man begins. Castle can't see much of him. Black uniform, dark hair showing through the faceplate of the helmet, black boots, black gloves, stiff spine, but somehow, instead of looking intimidating, he looks scared.

"We're going in."

The man hesitates again, this time remaining silent.

"We're going in." Beckett reiterates. "I would appreciate it if your men came too."

Another blood curdling scream. The warehouse workers.

"Because those aren't hostages, but maybe we can still save them." She continues, glancing over her shoulder at her team, nods her head. They move forward. Her team. They would follow her anywhere.

And it's that, the steely resolve in their faces as they move together, that catches the attention of the SWAT team. Beckett gesturing with her hands to communicate where she needs her team, the confidence they have in each other, that spurs the other men to action.

They step forward, their leader still hanging back as yet another inhuman sound pierces the air. Beckett turns to include the rest of the men in her directions, keeping her own team close to her as they near a side door; other groups of black-clad figures making their way to secure the other entrances.

They reach the door, and Esposito glances at the team as they move to flank it. On Beckett's nod, he slowly turns the handle, letting the door open with a soft squeak. Wincing at the noise, they slide through the door to the inside wall, glancing around quickly. The area is secure, and now it's easier to hear the warehouse workers, soft exclamations, groans, feet scuffing, the sound of bodies hitting solid objects, scrambling for purchase. The workers are fighting back. Maybe they'll last. The sound is coming from further inside. They edge in further.

The building is dark compared to the brightness of the mid-day sun outside, light coming mostly through windows high in the walls and a few basket lamps dangling from the ceiling down the long rows of floor-to-ceiling box-lined shelves.

A pigeon flies over head, startling them. Castle squeaks, jumping, looking sheepish as his eyes darting nervously.

They round the end of the high shelving unit they were following, turning left toward the noise. A body lies on the ground in a dark red puddle, bloody streaks on nearby crates. A steel door – maybe an office? – with a grunt, scrape of metal, whimpers, an inhuman shout emanating out of it looms before them. Again they find themselves flanking the door, wondering where their backup went. The four of them are alone together in the giant warehouse, a layer of metal between them and their worst nightmares. Ryan and Esposito press themselves against the wall on one side, Beckett and Castle on the other. Beckett's hand rests on the door knob, her other hand counting down the seconds as they brace themselves.

She sucks in a breath as her last finger folds down to form a fist, her grip tightening on the handle. With a hard yank the door flings open, her gun swinging into the open air.

And then she's falling backward with a gasp of surprise as something erupts out of the room at her. A man, Castle dully registers, but not: bloody, lacerated, face disfigured, shredded black clothing – the remnants of a uniform. His arms come darting out, flailing in deadly motions. Metal glints in both hands – pieces of metal that he held like swords, dripping blood.

Beckett lands with a thud on the dirty cement, and the man, the creature is still moving forward, moving toward her, hungry for her blood. Without thinking, Castle is there, lunging forward, at the menace, reaching out toward the weapon, grabbing his wrist.

Somehow, he came away from the encounter with a piece of metal clutched in his hand, a makeshift sword. He stumbles back a step. His mind has shut off. It shut off the moment Kate was in danger. Now he moves on instinct only. The metal comes up, angles toward the opponent, pointing at the man's chest. Turning his body, he presents a smaller target. Swinging wide, he knocks away the blade pointed at him. Metal clangs on metal.

He steps forward. Shuffles back a step. Gomez follows. Castle spares a glance at Kate, regrets it instantly as Gomez shifts his gaze back at the fallen detective. Lunging forward, he stabs the sword at Gomez, desperate to distract him again. Except it's not a sword, but a length of metal. The ex-Vice cop falls back with a grunt, surges forward.

Beckett lies on the ground gasping. Trying to gasp. Her lungs just won't fill.

She had hit the ground hard.

Should have expected.

Should have.

Somehow she wasn't prepared for Gomez to be right there. He ran into her full tilt. Probably saved her life by knocking her down.

The shaft of metal swung harmlessly over her head instead of into her throat as it was intended.

But now.

Helplessly she had stares up as Castle leaps forward, body-slamming the ex-cop, somehow coming away with one of his weapons clutched in his hand. Fear grips her stomach, clenches at her lungs, pumps her with an extra dose of adrenaline. So much already coursed her system that her body didn't know what to do with the excess. It made her shaky. The clang of weapons growing faster, louder.

Please no.

Not Castle.

Please.

She couldn't watch him die. Couldn't take it.

But she couldn't move, couldn't fill her lungs.

Castle looked over, met her eyes, determination in every line of his face. Then Gomez glanced over. Revulsion shook her. Gomez made a move toward her, and the Castle was there in a flurry of activity. Swinging, parrying Gomez's thrusts, sidestepping, sliding his feet forward and back along the scuffed cement.

He was surviving, succeeding. Not only that, but there was a grace to his movements.

Oh, yeah. Somewhere in the back of her mind, insignificant facts flitted past. Fencing. He was fencing with Gomez. Like she'd caught him fencing with Alexis that one time. Laser tag and fencing – playing at violence, making it a game, but somehow he was succeeding here where it mattered. Smooth, fluid movements as he saved her life, distracted the monster. Tiring quickly.

Inhale. Just… breath.

Her hand found her gun from where it dropped on the floor, wrapped around the grip. She didn't have the shot. Castle stood between her and her target. Desperately she glanced to Esposito and Ryan. Both detectives stood, guns at the ready, aiming. Ryan caught her movement, shook his head slightly. Neither of them had the shot either.

Gomez brought the metal in his hand up over his head. Swung it down violently, Highlander style. Castle blocked, but barely. He managed to absorb most of the blow, but it still made contact with his head at his hairline. Blood spilled out of the wound instantly, trailing a thin line down the side of his face. He stumbled back a step, almost tripping over Beckett at his feet.

But now she had a clear angle. She shot one handed, supporting herself with her other hand. The first bullet hit Gomez in his chest.

The impact jolted his body, but he kept coming. Beckett rolled onto her feet, crouching while she pulled the trigger again.

The second bullet entered the side of his head. Gomez slowed, crumpled as Beckett stood up, gun steadied in both hands as she stepped forward, methodically emptying the cartridge into his lifeless body.

Beside her, metal clattered to the floor as Castle dropped his makeshift saber. She couldn't move. Glassy-eyed she stared down at the corpse between her feet, empty gun still pointed at it.

She could hear the boys moving, stepping around Castle, who was out of her line of sight, but she could hear him panting heavily.

"Beckett." Esposito's voice, but it sounded distant.

"Beckett." Again. Footsteps in the distance, running towards them – the SWAT team. Esposito standing next to her.

"Boss." He sounded concerned, but she couldn't look at him. Couldn't look away from the disfigured mess in front of her. Couldn't stop the replay of blood down Castle's face as he stumbled away to give her the shot. Ringing in her ears. If it was from her pulse she could feel throbbing through every part of her, pounding in her ears, or from the gunshots, she couldn't tell. Didn't care.

"Kate." A hand on her shoulder. Esposito never called her Kate. Never. It shook her out of her daze just slightly. She gasped in a breath. Had she stopped breathing? She hadn't realized. It was enough of a response for him. Reaching around her, he kept one hand on her far shoulder, cradling her body as he placed his other hand lightly on her gun. She relaxed into him, letting the gun droop, no longer aiming at the body, but at the ground. Gently he slipped the gun from her hands and her arms fell uselessly to her sides as he slid the gun home in her holster.

"Okay, Kate, it's okay. Stand down." He murmured to her, rubbing circles on her back, using the pressure to turn her towards him, pulling her into a quick hug, feeling her shudder against him. "It's okay, it's over now."

Honestly, she was scaring him. She never went blank like this. Her stiff stance and tight expression were two steps past emotionless. Anger he could understand, horror, sadness, but nothing? After a moment, he pulled away, glancing briefly at her eyes which were still wide and unfocused. Then his attention was on Castle, whose breathing had calmed down and was watching the interaction between his partner and her detective with concern.

"Hey, man, you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm…" he casts a glance at the body at his feet, swallows hard. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure? 'Cause you've got some hope leaking from your head." He replies, trying for gallows humor, hoping to snap one of them out of their daze so they can get back to work. And because he's worried about them. It was an intense few moments where it looked for sure that Gomez would kill Castle. With him standing helplessly by. A sick feeling wrenched his stomach. Around them SWAT is finally arriving. Great timing. And he can hear Ryan in the background on the radio calling for medical assistance.

"I?" Castle looks puzzled for a moment, then lets out a bark of near-humorless laughter as he swipes a hand at his forehead. It comes away sticky and red. "Yes. I am ever hopeful," he quips.

At the sound of his voice, his laughter, Beckett blinks and straightens, looking around. Her eyes are focusing, finally. Esposito lets out a quiet sigh of relief and steps through the door Gomez had catapulted out of.

There are three survivors and six casualties from the warehouse workers in the room. Kate has blood on her shirt from helping one of the men walk to the ambulance. He was the lucky one. The other two are in critical condition. But they are all heroes. Without them, Gomez would have escaped once again. She tells the man that as he leans on her, his arm draped around her shoulders, Ryan on his other side. "It's over now." She whispers to the man – or maybe to herself, not sure if he understands. He's lost a lot of blood, but refused to be carried out. She recognizes a military tattoo on his bicep, and that explains the slow but dignified walk through the cargo crates to the ambulance.

It's anticlimactic, wrapping everything up at the scene. A coroner takes the bodies away. The ambulances load up the injured. Castle insisted on staying. A bruise is forming on his arm where Gomez scored a hit, and his hands are bandaged – scraped from his duel using scrap metal as a weapon – and a Band-Aid on his forehead. Once the blood was washed away, a half inch cut was left – barely visible through his hair.

As soon as the ambulance leaves, he's unwrapping his hands to look at them. Kate takes them in her hands, examining them, running her thumbs lightly over the abrasions. He shivers under her touch and pulls his hands away slightly.

She lets them drop, not looking up. They are standing so close, but neither quite looking at the other, not wanting to acknowledge what almost happened, not wanting to see the fear in the other's eyes. To think about what they could have lost today.

When she looks up, he's staring into the distance over her shoulder, his lips pressed tightly together. She brings a hand up tentatively to brush the hair out of his eyes, fingertips over the bandage.

He sucks in a breath, meets her eyes, but they're too tender, too caring, and she can't *can't* break right now, can't cry, or she won't be able to finish her job. There are too many little things, too many details for her to focus on that need to be done before she can even think about what just happened. What didn't happen.

Swallowing hard, she slides her hand down to his shoulder, using it to balance as she raises up on her toes to press a kiss to his forehead. She's aiming for the cut, but can't quite reach and settles for just over his eyebrow.

The air whooshes out of his lungs and he bends his head forward slightly, leaning into her. Running her hand up through his hair, she presses her lips to his forehead again and steps back.

"Go on home, Castle." She whispers across the almost non-existent space. She dips her head so she doesn't have to see his startled eyes.

"Please," she adds, "I…"

She can't explain how she wouldn't be able to concentrate - that if he stayed, they would stand like this forever, the gentle whisper-like touches to reassure herself that he was still here, still alive, not a mangled bloody heap on the floor.

"It will just be meetings with AI and paperwork and they won't let you be around for any of that anyways. And I…" she reached out, brushing her fingers against his cheek because she couldn't help it, but still not quite meeting his eyes.

"Please." Her voice pleading.

Somehow he understands. It hurts, but he understands. He sees the heart wrenching tenderness in her eyes in those fleeting moments when she does accidentally meet his eyes. The guardedness in her stance builds as she looks away, only to fall again as her fingers wisp against his skin.

He saw the sheer terror in her eyes as he fought Gomez, and somehow knows it has nothing to do with her, everything to do with him. Because terror for yourself isn't mixed hope or tenderness, with everything left unsaid shining out in the middle of it. Then afterwards, her standing so rigid, so taut he was afraid she'd shatter.

And now? Now if he stays, she will shatter. The cop façade will fail, and all that will be left is Kate, scared and alone, waiting for yet another person she cares about to die. She needs to do her job. Needs desperately to have that role to fall into, to let it build back her armor.

So he leaves, meandering past Ryan and Esposito as they wrap up their conversations with the SWAT team leader, out to the street, pulling out his phone to call a town car, unwilling, unable to have to deal with finding a cab.


	10. Vanilla and Cherry

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 10: Vanilla and Cherries

A knock on his door – it sounded hesitant, soft. A pit formed in his stomach, the stress of the last three days washing over him. She had told him to go home, that she would be in meetings for the next few hours, debriefings that he wouldn't be allowed to attend. But still. He would have rather sat by her empty desk waiting for her under the yellow lights at the precinct with the noises of the other officers working around him than sit in his loft alone. At least then he knew she was close, that she was safe, just on the other side of the wall. Here, his mind replayed what happened, what could have happened.

He stood staring at the door taking a steadying breath, then another before opening it.

She didn't look up when the door opened, her gaze locked firmly on the ground, a loose lock of hair hanging in her face, shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Her clothes are the same as earlier today, shirt still showing patches of blood from the warehouse worker. In silence he waited, studying her. Physically, she was unharmed, thankfully. But when her eyes finally worked their way across the threshold and slowly, painfully slowly up his sock-clad feet, dark jeans and his clean button-up shirt, all the way up to meet his eyes, they were red-rimmed and a bit too moist for his liking.

"Oh, Kate," he breathed, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her before he could think about it. She didn't resist him – he didn't know what he would have done if she had. But she didn't react at all, just stood there taking shallow shuddering breaths, so he stepped back, pulling her inside the entrance and shutting the door, locking it. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other gently cradled her head as he nuzzled his face against her cheek, his forehead against her temple.

After today, he needed to hold her, needed to feel her heart beating against his chest, his breath slipping into time with hers.

"Kate," he whispered against her skin as her breathing steadied out and she wrapped her arms around his chest.

"Hmm" She hummed into his skin, turning her face slightly so the corner of her lips touched the corner of his.

"It's over Kate. It's over," he breathed against the corner of her mouth, pressing his face into hers, a subtle pressure, nose against her cheek, his lips against hers. Not quite a kiss, nuzzling his lips against hers.

She exhaled, breath against his lips. It was over. They were here. Safe. He was safe. When he left the precinct, when he wasn't there, she couldn't concentrate on anything else, on anything but him. Enduring long hours of debriefing with what seemed like every government agency without him next to her left her exhausted. And here she was, leaning into him, drinking in his strength as he held her up. Her hands clenched in his shirt involuntarily, had been since he pulled her inside his loft.

"Castle." The first word she'd managed since she arrived. She felt him relax against her. She exhaled again, and then moistened her lips, her tongue touching against his, they were so close. He gasped, leaned back to meet her eyes before leaning in again.

And then they were kissing, his lips against hers. Her hands move up to his collar, pulling him closer, leaning into him. He stumbled backward, pulling her with him, one hand in her hair holding her to him, the other sliding under her shirt, hot on her back. She could feel the abrasions on his palms, rough against her smooth skin.

They broke apart, gasping. Castle used the moment to pull her shirt over her head, leaving it in a puddle by the dining table, before pulling her flush against him again, hands at her sides, back, hair, mesmerized by the feel of her skin under his hands, tugging her further into the apartment.

Her fingers found the buttons on his shirt and fumbled down them, sliding her hands back up his bare chest.

His calves hit the coffee table, and they stumbled, nearly tumbling into a heap on the floor, but he twisted, half caught his balance and sat heavily onto the couch, pulling her with him.

A sound at the door and they freeze, both pulling back, eyes wide, panting, desperately trying to catch their breath.

Kate is straddling him, her hair in his face, her hands against his stomach. He's laying flat, staring up into her eyes, at the flush of her cheeks. His hands on her back where they'd been fiddling with her bra, now still, firm, apply pressure to pull her lower, closer to him, possessively, protectively.

A thump and a scrape sound on the other side of the wall. Beckett's lips tighten, a crease forming on her brow. Castle swallows hard, his eyes trying to radiate confidence, but there's fear there, too. Her right hand comes to rest on the gun that is still for some reason holstered to her side as a scrape sounds in the lock of the door.

Everything happening on instinct, no time for thought as the door swings open.

Beckett draws her weapon, twisting half around aiming for the door, sliding her left hand up Castle's chest as he tries to sit up, holding him down against the cushions.

Her safety clicks off as the door opens fully. A gasp, and she freezes. Rick struggles against her hand, needs desperately to defend her, but between it and her thighs, he's pinned firmly.

"Oh!" she finally manages to croak out. Horror tinges her voice.

Horror and embarrassment.

"Oh, Alexis." She finally manages, safety clicking back on as she swings her gun down and away, resting her hand on the back of the couch as she stares in shock and relief at her partner's daughter.

Alexis stands there unmoving, shock written into every line of her body, face pale, mouth and eyes open wide. Her back is stiff and ram-rod straight and she's dropped the suitcase she was carrying onto the hardwood floor. That accounts for the noise, the thumping against the door, a small part of Beckett's brain that was still working noted. It also noticed the subtle marks on Alexis' face in that split second before it turned scarlet and she let out a gasp of her own.

"Detective Beckett! Oh!" She let out in a breath before spinning on her foot to face away from her.

And now the detective was blushing as well, highly conscious of her state of undress, and her position with her partner.

Straddling her partner.

Alexis' father. Oh. She feels the heat in her cheeks and down her chest as she turns back to face him. And yes, he notices too, but that is buried somewhere under relief that it's *only* his daughter, and an abashed look that it *is* his daughter who just came crashing through the door.

For a moment, she relaxes her hold on him, letting him rise up so she can rest her head on his chest. She stays there the space of three breaths, letting her heart slow and the adrenaline rush to calm enough for her to holster her gun. Then she's sliding off of him, patting blindly at the floor for his shirt and pulling it around her shoulders as she steps toward Alexis.

When she nears her, she realizes the teen's shoulders are shaking. A sinking feeling forms in her stomach. How could she have just pulled a gun on..?

"Alexis, sweetheart," she starts before she reaches her, to give her warning before placing her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Alexis, I'm so sorry." She whispers, rubbing her thumbs softly over the base of her neck.

Alexis takes a shuddering breath, and as she exhales, Kate realizes that she's not crying, but laughing. Laughing so hard that there are tears rolling down her cheeks.

Kate releases her own breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. Alexis was okay, possibly still scarred for life – not only had she walked in on her father at a rather inopportune time, but had also had a gun pulled on her – but okay. Alexis turns around and throws herself into Kate, wrapping her arms around her waist and holding her tight, gasping with giggles.

"Oh… Oh, you should have seen your face. Not at first. That was terrifying, but, oh! After you realized it was me. It was… oh!" and she couldn't continue.

Kate felt at a loss, and tentatively wrapped an arm around Alexis, thankful for such innocence in her life, thankful that this is what Rick came home to every day, instead of the empty rooms that just reinforced the horrors of the day, but a cheerfulness that could erase it.

Then Alexis pulled back, eyes bright, smiling. Kate watched as the humor drained out and she gave her a long assessing look. To Kate's dismay, Alexis then sucked in a deep breath and burst into tears, this time crying in earnest. "Thank you," she sobbed into Kate's chest.

Kate stared at her in bewilderment, opening and closing her mouth a few times, unable to find the words, rubbing the young woman's back hesitantly.

"For making me laugh. I needed that." Alexis clarified when she had gained control of her emotions. "And" A quirk in her eyebrow and a tick in her cheek told the detective that this part that was following was the important bit, " for protecting my dad."

She'd seen it, when she walked in, seen the gun first, the terror and determination etched in the detective's face, but also the hand on her father's chest that refused to let him be exposed to danger if at all possible.

Kate reached out, putting her hand on the teen's shoulder, mouth pursed together as she sought the right words to express exactly what the girl's father meant to her, and finally, with a quirk of her mouth, she slid her hand down Alexis' arm and squeezed her hand.

"Always."

"Now," Kate continued after a few moments of staring into the younger Castle's eyes, not quite the whole conversation she can have with this girl's father, but the intensity is there, and much of the understanding. She lowers her voice, unsure how Alexis will take her interference, "Can you tell me what else is going on?"

Alexis looked at her in confusion, but understanding lit in her eyes as Kate reached out and touched her cheek, gently running her fingers along the slight red marks on the side of her face. Kate guessed the girl had been slapped, and that was what had led to her appearing back at the loft a day earlier than expected.

"I…" Alexis began, then her eyes shifted over Kate's shoulder, "umm. No." She shook her head, red hair sliding back and forth over her shoulders. "Not right now."

Kate sensed Rick's approach and stepped back slightly, making room for him, realizing then that the shirt, *his* shirt was still unbuttoned, was falling open just slightly. Blushing again, she stumbled back another step, fingers working at the buttons as Rick wrapped his daughter in a giant bear hug, squeezing her tightly to his chest and pressing his lips to her hair.

Standing back, Kate observes their interaction, watching how Alexis wraps her arms around her father, burying her head in his chest and taking several deep breaths before pulling back, eyes teary. And it strikes her, as she hears him murmuring soft reassurances into his daughter's hair, that that was exactly what he had done for her – how many years ago? Surely that wasn't last night – standing in her apartment.

Tears pricked her own eyes, and suddenly she was having difficulty breathing as she looked up at the ceiling, desperately trying not to cry and ruin the father-daughter moment. But she's standing there in his shirt drinking in strength from the warm smell of his cologne and laundry detergent and that mix of everything else that makes up the smell of Castle, and watching his daughter lean into his chest, her ear pressed against his heart, listening to the steady rhythm, matching her breathing with his, being lulled by the safety of it just as Kate is. And it's just. The scene is perfect. And she will not be jealous of Alexis. *Will not* Because she'd give anything to have that relationship with her father again, or the one she lost with her mother. And it makes her heart ache seeing the sweetness of it.

Castle turns his head to glance at her over the top of his daughter's head, his cheek still pressed against her hair. His lips quirk up and he shuffles them over without breaking the hug until he is standing next to her. With lightning speed, he drops one arm from around Alexis' back and wraps it around her, pulling her in tight against both his and Alexis' side. He drops a kiss on the side of her head before burying his face in the space between their heads, breathing in the smells of their hair. Vanilla and Cherries.


	11. Ice Cream

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

Really hard time writing parts of this one. Hope it turned out alright.

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 11: Ice Cream

After a long moment, Alexis pulls away. With a self conscious smile she reaches for her suitcase. "I'm, uhh… going to take my stuff up stairs. Goodnight."

"Oh, you don't have to…" Kate splutters. "I should be going anyways, and…" She reluctantly starts disentangling herself from Castle, her hand skimming across the smooth skin and hard muscles of his back.

"It's been a long night." Alexis interrupts. "Really. You should stay."

Kate watches the girl as she continues her graceful exit, enviously wishing she had the poise to do the same.

"It's late." She states, taking a stumbling step away to turn and look at Castle. "I need to…" she gestures to the door.

Wordlessly he nods, understanding mixed with… No, it's complete understanding. He knows why she's leaving. She's embarrassed and running. And he's laughing at her, mocking her with the expression shining out of his eyes.

"Shut up." She mutters, blushing as she reaches for her jacket and shoes.

At that, he laughs out loud, a deep belly laugh. Relief and amusement and some amount of genuine happiness are all mixed into the sound, and she can't help the smile that fights its way onto her face as he opens the door for her.

"Shush," she whispers up at him, grinning, brushing her fingers against his lips.

"Until tomorrow, Detective." He murmurs back to her through her fingers, his bright eyes softer now as he soaks in the sight of her in his favorite (if it hadn't been before, it is now) blue button-up shirt and the light mark forming just above her collarbone.

"Night Castle." She turns, forces herself to step away, to keep walking until she hears the door shut behind her. And then she's stuck in that spot, halfway to his elevator, torn between blushing furiously and grinning like crazy.

The door shut, Castle leans his body against it with a smile lighting up his whole face. Energy is somehow coursing through his body again despite the earlier events in the day.

A cough from the top of the stairs draws his attention. Barefoot and pajama-clad, his teenage daughter stares down at him, a laughing, teasing smile dancing in his eyes.

"So?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him as he silently watched her descending the staircase, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

"So." He responds in agreement when she reaches the bottom.

"Detective Beckett?"

"It was." He's trying to draw this conversation out as long as possible, to keep it light and fun. He too saw the marks on his daughter's face and needs to ask, but also needs to bask in this happiness that is stretching between them for just a little longer.

Alexis let out an exasperated sigh at his response. "Are you…?" she gestures with her hand. Indicating 'together' but not saying it.

He cocks an eyebrow at her, not responding.

"Dad!" a huff and a laugh combined.

"I don't know. Maybe." He finally answers, walking past her to his room to grab another shirt before finishing the conversation.

She follows him through his office, stopping at his doorway and leaning against the frame, watching him dig through the second drawer of his dresser to find a t-shirt. "I mean, when I walked in…" she lets the statement hang, grinning as he blushes and pulls the t-shirt over his head to hide it.

"I," he lets out a sigh, trying for honesty without telling her too much. "I don't think either of us were quite in the right frame of mind to be making relationship decisions." He paused, sending her a hard considering look. "Tomorrow, tonight might have been a mistake." He confides.

"To you or to her?" Alexis has to ask.

Castle gives her a soft almost sad smile in response.

"Tough case?" They've walked back to the living room area and she throws this question over her shoulder, turning her head to catch his response. And nearly stumbles at his reaction.

His face blanches, eyes full of she doesn't quite know what. Anguish? He rubs a hand through his hair and she notices the small cut and bruise on his forehead. And he's frozen there, mouth opening, closing as he fights past the memories to find an adequate reply. "Yeah," he finally manages to gruff out past the tightness in his throat. "It was. It is."

And she knows that that is the most of an answer she will get from him. From the look on his face and the way his whole body tightened up at her simple question, it's probably best this way. She doesn't want to have the nightmares that occasionally haunt him from what he sees on the job with Beckett.

He doesn't seem to be able to pull himself out of whatever he is reliving, and she needs some way to reach him again.

"I'm sorry for coming home early." She manages. She doesn't know how to start this conversation, but that seems like a reasonable opening.

"No," he grits out, angry sounding as he steps forward, his eyes steely on hers.

She opens her mouth in confusion, and then he continues. "No. You never have to be sorry for coming home. This is your home. This is where you will always be safe." He promises, stepping forward again to set his hands gently on her shoulders, staring into her eyes, giving weight to his words.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat she smiles. "I just. Most of the week was great. We spent most of the time just exploring the beach, swimming." She shrugs. "But. They go out there every year. All of their neighbors know them. He has friends out there that I don't know. And sometimes they just treated me like I was in the way. Like I didn't belong there, like I didn't belong with Ashley." She says in a rush.

"You'll always have a place here." Her father comforts, pulling over to sit down on a barstool at the kitchen counter.

"But that's not all." Alexis continued. "He had one friend. His best friend, according to her. They've known each other since they were five. I'd never even heard of her before. You'd think he'd mention it. What does it mean that he didn't?" she asked, but then hurried on without waiting for an answer. "Is it because she's more than just a friend - that he didn't want me to know? Am I just the other girl? He seemed surprised to see her there." She paused for a breath, and her father set a double chocolate chip cookie in front of her on a napkin.

"Tell me about this girl." Castle spoke into the fridge as he rummaged around for the gallon of milk. "Would you like ice cream with that?" he added as an afterthought.

"Yes, please. Her name is Alyssa and she's gorgeous: curly brown hair, emerald green eyes, perfect skin, perfect figure, cute clothes. But mean. At first it was okay, I mean, she seemed protective of him, like I was being judged on whether I was worthy of him, but not mean. She watched everything we did together, how we interacted. And then, yesterday, things changed. Everything she said was snarky, but in an underhanded way. Nothing she said was overt enough for me to be able to object. It was just…"

She looked up as he placed a bowl of Pistachio ice cream in front of her, tears swimming in her eyes. "Thank you."

"And tonight, it was worse. I'd mentioned something about it to Ashley, and apparently he had talked to her about it, because she came up to me and started – not yelling, because it wasn't loud, but somehow that made it worse. And she's telling me that I'm not good enough for him, that I should have never come out there, that I didn't fit with his family. And then she slapped me.

"I just stood there, not knowing what to do. But what's worse, Ashley just stood there, too. He didn't say a thing. Never defended me, never anything.

"Alyssa stormed off and we – Ashley and I – just stared at each other for a few minutes and I left. I went and found his parents and told them I was ready to go home. Ashley didn't even come back with us. As far as I know he's still standing where I left him. Or with Alyssa.

"And then, when I came in and saw Beckett – Kate – and she…" Her cheeks flamed and Castle coughed embarrassedly into his bowl of Rocky Road ice cream. "I mean… I saw what she did. She was…" The image of the detective shirtless and straddling her father came before her, and if possible, her blush darkened as she stumbled over the words. "She was protecting you, pushing you back down. I could see the fear in her eyes, but it didn't stop her." Her eyes came up to meet her father's, willing him to understand. He stepped around the island to wrap her in a hug. And steal a bite of her green ice cream.

"You know I would do anything to protect you… or Kate." Images of the day flashed before his eyes, his face slipping into a grimace, which he forced back off again. "And it's her job to protect people." He added.

"Yes, but," Alexis scoffed, "She wasn't *at* her job. She was…"

After a longer pause, he continued, knowing that he had yet to give her a coherent answer for her situation. Somehow, when he opened his mouth, he found himself defending the young man. "It sounds like she's threatened of you. Maybe like Paige was of Ashley when you started dating him? As for Ashley, sometimes, it's hard to know when to act. Inaction seems like a viable option when it really shouldn't - especially when it means having to choose between people that you care about – childhood friend or girlfriend. It's an automatic reaction to freeze. Beckett's automatic reaction is to defend those around her…

"… and to throw herself into danger," he concluded with a grin.

His phone buzzed on the counter.

With a glance at his daughter to make certain she was alright, he pulled it to his ear.

"Castle."


	12. Precinct

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 12: Precinct

It had rained sometime earlier in the night, and the tires of her car shushed against the pavement, a lulling sound, throwing mist into the air to catch and glow softly in the street lamps. Slowly her mind disengaged, calmed by the sounds of the near-empty streets. Images of the day flitted past in her mind's eye to be cataloged in her memory.

She was halfway back to her apartment when pieces of conversation from earlier in the day began clicking into place. Castle's _'Peace. I wonder if that's still the goal?_' ringing in her ears.

There were leads she needed to check on immediately.

Sparing half a glance in her rear view mirror, she changed lanes, cutting off the person behind her as she flicked on her turn signal again to cut back through town toward the precinct. His number was dialed and ringing before she registered pulling the phone out of her pocket.

"Castle." She responded to his greeting. "I just remembered something. I'm headed back up to the precinct. Meet me there." Excitement tinged her voice.

"On my way." He answered, hanging the call up and tossing his phone back onto the counter.

Her next calls were equally brief to Ryan and Esposito, a simple, "I think I've got something."

Castle's comment from the beginning of the day and the lead she had almost started looking up before she was interrupted by the call to the warehouse finally catching up to her.

Street lights cast circles of yellow glow on the sidewalk outside the precinct as Kate sprinted up the steps, her jacket and purse thrown over her arm. Without stopping, she flashed her badge to the new night security man at the front desk. Anxiously she tapped her foot the entire way up the elevator ride, torn somewhere between the theories cascading around her brain about this case and the situation back at Castle's loft.

"Beckett?" Alexis asked as her father's phone hit the counter top.

"Yeah. She has a lead - wants me to come in." He replied excitedly, dumping the remainder of his ice cream into her bowl before spinning away from the counter toward his room for his shoes. "Ahh…?" he asked, skidding to a stop.

Alexis raised her eyebrow in question, a mocking smile graced her lips.

"Will you be okay?" he asked, concern radiating from his eyes.

Alexis laughed at his sudden anxiety. "Yes, I'll be okay. But, uhh, dad?"

He turned to face her.

"She's heading to the precinct?"

"Yeah?" Confusion on his face.

Did she really have to spell it out for him? "…In your shirt?"

Oh. _OH…_ His face fell in dismay. "Uhhh…. Yeah?"

When Esposito and Ryan arrived, they found their boss leaned against her desk staring at the murder board, a predatory smile on her face as she double checked what she had written. The marker, uncapped was in her right hand, tapping lightly on the wood of her desk top. Dark bags still showed under her eyes, blending with the slightly smeared eyeliner and mascara that had been fresh that morning. Her hair, though slightly tousled still curled softly around her shoulders. If they had not walked out with her earlier in the evening, they'd have thought she'd never left.

Except for one thing. They stopped at the edge of the hall.

"Hey, isn't that…?" Ryan whispered to Esposito, his eyes wide.

"No way. No…" Esposito stopped. Then with a sly smirk on his face he pulled out his phone to snap a quick picture, texting it to the lovely medical examiner before turning to Ryan.

"Do you think she even knows…" Ryan whispered again.

"I don't know, man, you know how she gets when she finds a lead. It's like nothing else exists."

"Do you think we should mention it?"

"No way. Let's see how long it takes for her to realize."

"Twenty bucks says she won't realize until Castle shows up." Ryan challenged.

With a quick fist bump, they resumed walking. "Yo, Boss, what do you have for us?" Esposito asked as they approached, carefully keeping his eyes off of the long over-sized shirt she was wearing. Definitely not noticing how it hit her mid-thigh, or how the fingers of her left hand unconsciously played with the cuff of the sleeve.

She turns between them and the murder board. "Blue Sun is a pharmaceutical company." She begins, pointing to a line on the board. "With several contracts in the U.S., most of which are with small drug companies. They are however, in the process of negotiating a massive contract with…" She paused, eyes glittering.

"Department of Defense?" Ryan asks, reading the new information off the murder board.

"Exactly."

The elevator dinged. Kate looked up, a smile brightening her face. Ryan and Esposito glanced at each other before looking toward Castle. He strolled in, aiming for nonchalance, a tray of four coffees in one hand, and a bag in the other. His eyes met hers, and he couldn't help the eyebrow quirk as his eyes roamed her figure. She took in his expression and blushed, lowering her gaze to her hands.

Realization hit her and she looked up in panic, the blush raging across her cheeks. She gasped in several breaths, unable to find anything to say.

"Ahh." Castle began nervously. "Alexis gave me a shirt for you to borrow." He paused, holding the bag out to her. "Sorry I didn't think about it sooner. Mine just seemed like a logical choice at the time."

"Oh, umm… Thanks, Ri – Castle." She stumbled over the words, sending a glare at her detectives as she saw money exchange hands. Hurrying off to the bathroom, she left Castle standing between the two detectives who were studying him.

"What was that all about?" Ryan asked.

"Kate came to the loft after she left here. She looked… lost. Hadn't stopped by her place to change or anything. Her shirt…" Castle faded out. The boys looked momentarily confused, until they remembered the blood stains from earlier. "And Alexis was coming home, so she borrowed my shirt." He shrugged. "I thought she was heading straight home, so I didn't even think about it, but then she called me saying she was headed here."

The boys had started out looking skeptical, ready to disbelieve any excuses Castle threw out, but he sounded as tired as they felt, had been through as much as they had. Even his lack of filter, calling her Kate wasn't something they felt like pushing tonight. They had seen, though they had tried to give them some privacy, the way they invaded each others space after the shooting, so much more than the usual. So even though they still had their suspicions, they could tell Castle was asking them to leave it for now.

Kate took her time in the restroom to pull herself together and emerged several minutes later wearing Alexis' t-shirt. Her hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail and she had washed off most of her makeup. It made her look younger, but also let her exhaustion show through. As she approached, she could hear the boys getting Castle up to speed.

She crossed behind them, placing the folded shirt on her desk next to her computer in her personal space on the side away from Castle's chair. He flicked his eyes over to her, noting the gesture before bringing his full attention back to the scene before him.

"That's awesome!" he exclaimed.

The detectives stared at him in confusion.

"No, really! Think about it: a drug named "peace" given to the military Except..."

"It destroys a military from the inside out." Beckett continued his thought

"They either go comatose or berserk." Castle adds in.

"Hit enough bases at once and take down the entire military in one move." Beckett concludes, looking triumphant.

"I think it gets worse with lack of sleep." Ryan stage whispered to Esposito after watching the conversation ping-pong between their boss and her partner.

Kate heard him and cast him a friendly glare as she came to stand next to Castle. He leaned against her desk staring at the board, his eyes flicking rapidly over the information present. His hand brushed against a paper sticking off the wooden surface. Glancing down to nudge it back into place, he noticed it was an envelope – with his name on it in an elegant script.

"Ahh, Beckett?" he asked, holding the letter up for her to see, "Am I receiving mail here, now?"

"Oh." Her face fell. A careful mask of neutrality slipped into place. "I'd forgotten about that. I'm sorry. It was hectic here after the… after I got back." Her words stumbling out numbly, as if she were reliving the afternoon.

"Hey, it's not a problem. I just… what is it?"

"It's from Inara. She stopped by, asked me to get it to you… It just slipped my mind. I'm sorry."

The scene replayed itself in her mind:

_After a grueling meeting with Internal Affairs, she'd slipped out of the conference room for a coffee break before heading into her next meeting. Inara was waiting, sitting regally in Castle's chair. A red silk dress shifted across her hips as she rose at Beckett's approach. Kate could feel her hackles raising._

"_Detective Beckett." Inara extended her hand to the detective. "I was looking for Richard. Would you happen to know where he is?"_

"_Uhh, yes," Beckett narrowed her eyes at the woman, trying not to glare. The woman's appearance was impeccable. Kate, however, had barely had time to wash the blood off her hands before being hustled into the conference room. "He's at home. This morning was… difficult."_

"_Oh." A soft exhale. Kate hated her all the more for the compassion shining out of her eyes as she took in the detective's bedraggled appearance. "Could you… if it isn't too much hassle, could you give this to him."_

_She held out a square cream colored envelope, which Beckett took from her daintily. _

"_Of course. But… You were staying at his loft. Why couldn't you have given it to him this morning?" There wasn't venom in her voice. No, none at all. _

"_I…I'm sorry. It slipped my mind. But if you would rather, I could take it to him now…" She sounded hesitant, apologetic. _

_Beckett felt a sting of guilt, but was too drained to apologize. "No. It's fine." She slipped it onto the edge of her desk, and met the woman's eyes again._

"_Thank you." The Ambassador smiled, a slight dimple appearing, and Beckett felt her gaze softening in return._

"_It's tickets for a gala that I'm attending with work. I was hoping Richard and Alexis would be able to make it. I haven't seen her in too long." She elaborated._

_Kate felt her eyes narrow again as her mouth tightened. "Oh. Right. If you don't mind, I need to get back to work." She stated, stepping around the woman, coffee in hand, and headed back toward the conference room - leaving the ambassador to make her exit as she willed._

Castle read through the invitation. Read through it again. Swearing under his breath he stood, bringing Beckett out of her reverie. The envelope, torn open, he dropped back onto her desk, the contents of it he slapped down on top of it with a huff before pushing himself away from the desk and walking a short ways down the hall. Beckett watched him bring his phone out of his pocket, pressing harshly at the screen.

"What the hell, Inara?" he huffed into the phone, his face dark after he heard the sleepy 'hello' on the other end. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Rick?"

He stepped into the break room, but left the door open. The detectives watched in confused fascination.

"I don't know what game you're playing Inara, but it stops here!"

"I..? What?" she asked, sleep hazing her voice.

"The invitation, Inara? I trusted you, and you go and involve my daughter? My daughter! How dare you." He was shaking. His hands trembling.

The detectives edged their way closer to the door, exchanging confused glances with each other.

"Oh, Sugar… Rick… I'd never hurt Alexis. Truly." Her voice was concerned. "I just thought…I wanted to see my Mei-Mei again."

"Sugar? Really?" For some reason he felt compelled to address the pet name that had no place in the midst of an argument, and sounded odd coming from her when typically all she ever called him was Richard – not even Rick.

"And you invite her – us – to a gala with Blue Sun, Chinese government officials *and* several high-ranking United States government officials and military officials? Where they are undoubtedly going to use the new recreational drug that's all the rage in China? Are you trying to kill me? Because I can think of better ways to go, if you want me dead. And none of them involve my daughter." The anger rolled off of him.

Upon hearing his accusation, Beckett stepped back to her desk to retrieve the invitations. A Blue Sun logo graced the top of the cream colored cards. Ryan and Esposito peaked over her shoulder, eyes widening at the information. Turning on her heel, Beckett crossed to the murder board and attached it with a magnet before returning to the break room door.

"I just…. I hoped…" she stuttered

"That's! … You hoped? What? You hoped I'd figure it out in time? And if I hadn't? If Alexis was exposed? What then Inara? I trusted you. So I'm asking again, what aren't you telling me?"

"I'm telling you everything I can, Rick. Truly. And I'd never let anything happen to Alexis. If you feel uncomfortable with her attending, then I'd understand if you wanted to bring someone else instead, but I really do hope that you come."

"Did you get everything you needed from my apartment?" he asked, changing course, understanding dawning, but not dissipating the white-hot anger in the slightest.

"Yes, I retrieved my clothes. Thank you for not throwing them out."

Her reply contained a thread of hope. They both knew the chest in his loft contained more than the thin layer of clothes piled on top – mostly information stored on encrypted hard drives, but also a handgun, money, half a dozen burner phones and a few spare ids. If all she claimed was the clothing, then someone else was listening into this conversation. Someone she didn't trust.

"Good. I don't think I want Alexis knowing you spent the night this time." He replied coldly.

"I understand." Her voice sad, "I didn't mean to use you… I just… I don't want what happened..." A long pause filled with shaky breathing. "It was my fault. My bad judgment, and I can't let that happen again."

The factory, at Blue Sun. The massacre. "And yet you pulled my daughter into it." He accused, unable to find it in him to forgive her. "And you won't tell me *anything* that could help us."

"Sugar," She stressed the pet name, attempting to sooth, "I would if I could. I just… I'm sorry Rick. Please come."

"Don't." he started, sighed. "Okay, no. I'll... maybe."

With an angry huff he ended the call, glaring into empty space while he worked to calm his staccato breathing.

Except he wasn't calming. If anything, he was getting increasingly agitated. Two steps forward, three steps back, he paced the confined space like a caged tiger. His arms twitched as his hands clenched and unclenched.

Finally, Beckett stepped forward, rested a hand on the door frame, leaning just barely over the threshold. "Castle." She said softly. No reaction. She stepped into the room. He caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and jerked violently. It was a defensive movement. He looked ready to fight. But he barely registered her presence even as he faced her fully. His eyes glazed over as he glared into the middle space between them.

"Castle," she whispered again, stepping slowly toward him, as if moving toward a spooked animal. He twitched, his eyes tracking her, but not acknowledging her.

"Castle." Another step closed the distance, and she rested her hand on his chest, half expecting him to flinch away. Instead he blinked and shook his head.

"Kate," he breathed, an exhale. "Did you hear? I… oh." He closed his eyes, shaking his head again. "That's it, our break. The next target." He didn't know if he was making sense. "The invitation. Did you see?" His hands still flexing uselessly by his sides. "But she. I trusted her." Now he knew he wasn't making sense. But the situation made no sense. "She betrayed me. It's a trap. And she invited Alexis."

Kate brought her other hand up, rested her hands on his shoulders, running her thumbs across his collarbones, trying to sooth him as pieces of the overheard conversation began making sense.

"You think they are going to use the Pax at the gala she invited Alexis and you to?" She asked, horrified, but keeping her voice steady and neutral.

"It makes sense. It fits." He looked down at her, turmoil swirling in his eyes.

"Oh…" she didn't know what to add to that to take away the pain in his eyes, so instead she slid her hands down his chest, wrapping her arms around him, and leaned into him. She was squeezing too hard, she knew, could tell by the way his ribs pressed into her arms and dug into her forehead and cheekbone where she had her head pressed against his chest. She felt her breathing fighting to match the unsteadiness of his as the sound of his racing heart pounded against her ear.

He felt the vibrating hum of her murmuring against his chest, but couldn't make out the words.

After a long moment, his arms came up, crushing her to his chest. "I just want to protect her," he confessed into her hair. "She's my little girl." He clarified. She could feel his arms still shaking as he slowly slid down from his adrenaline high. "Who else will keep her safe if I don't?" His breathing hitched, and she squeezed her arms around him a fraction tighter, nuzzling her head against his chest. "Not her boyfriend." He added bitterly.

Kate looked up in confusion. "He was the one who…" she started.

"No." Castle sighed. "No, a girl slapped Alexis, but he was there and did nothing to stop it. And then when she saw us…" he stopped, a slight grin working its way through the worry. "Can you imagine if she came in a few minutes later. No, nevermind." He added before she could stiffen and pull away.

But instead she choked out a giggle. His hands on her back. On her bra clasp. A few minutes later. Yes, she could imagine. And Alexis. The visual of her shocked, horrified face floated up and she giggled again, blushing into his shirt.

"But all she sees is that you protected me, put yourself in danger, and…" he swallowed hard, and what he intended to come out of his mouth, something about Alexis and innocence fled away, and what comes out of his mouth instead surprises him. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?" he asked shyly, wistfully.

She drew a sharp inhale against the lump forming in her throat. "Yes, Castle." She tips her head back to meet his eyes, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I think you proved that today when you decided to take on a psychopath with only a little bit of scrap steel." She took a deep stuttering breath because there was more that needed to be said and she didn't know if she was brave enough to continue. "And I know. And you'd never intentionally hurt me." She parroted his words back to him. Was it only last night? A long pause let him know she had heard him, letting him hear the unspoken as well. "I know."


	13. Trap

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 13: Trap

She held his gaze as his eyes widened, and his breathing that had calmed significantly became somewhat erratic again.

He leaned his head down slowly, brushed his lips against hers.

A cough from the doorway caught their attention, dragging it reluctantly away from each other. Beckett, blushing, buried her head briefly in Castle's shirt before turning to meet Ryan's eyes.

"So..Uh…" Ryan stuttered after a long moment of silence as his boss and her shadow stared at him. "The, err… invitation? Are you going to accept?"

"I assume you were all listening?" Castle asked, his eyes bouncing from Ryan to Esposito, who was standing behind the young detective, waiting for them to nod their heads before continuing.

"Then you know it's a trap."

"Wait, what?" Ryan asked. The detectives had crowded into the break room after Castle's statement. The boys sprawled on the couch. Castle walked around to perch on the edge of the coffee table facing them as Beckett edgily paced beside them.

"You know it's a trap and you still want to go?" Ryan continued, confusion creasing his forehead.

"I… yes." Castle answered hesitantly. "Yes." He said again with more confidence. "I need to."

"Why?" Esposito asked, leaning forward.

"She's in danger," Castle shrugged, "most likely being watched. Otherwise she wouldn't have involved…"

His voice faded out, and then he started again with heat. "I'm furious with her for trying to involve Alexis in her job, especially with how dangerous what she's currently involved in is"

A pause and a sigh. "But she gave us this break. We have to do something with it."

"She puts Alexis in danger, and yet you still want to protect her?" Beckett turns to stare at him, confusion and anger in her voice.

Castle met her eyes, looked down at his clasped hands and shrugged again, nodding.

"You love her." It was half statement, half question, not quite an accusation. Her mouth fell open with a gasp and her eyes widened. Apparently she had not expected those words to come out. Ryan squirmed uncomfortably on the couch as Castle turned to meet Beckett's eyes.

Esposito stood, sidestepping the table, careful not to step between his boss and her partner as they stared each other down in a silent conversation. As he reached the doorway, he met Ryan's eyes and tilted his head toward the bullpen.

"We're going to go run down some leads." He said into the room as Ryan awkwardly shuffled past Castle to join Esposito. There was no response, Castle and Beckett showed no sign of being aware of their departure.

"Yes." Castle finally admitted quietly as the door to the room quietly shut.

Beckett had been still before, but now she froze, her breath catching in her throat, squeezing at her lungs. Her heartbeat was pounding, bounding, threatening to force itself through the walls of her chest.

Castle could see hurt and distrust flicker in her eyes before they carefully blanked into a hardened professional expression, her mouth going from a surprised "o" to a thin straight line.

"But I'm not in love with her." He added.

Beckett snorted in disdain, anger flashing in her eyes. "Right."

Castle opened his mouth to object, to defend his statement, but snapped it shut at her next question.

"Did you sleep with her?"

Castle considered the question for a long moment, breaking eye contact to look out the windows into the bullpen and the down at his hands.

"Right." Beckett murmured in a small, hurt voice, stepping behind him toward the door. She hadn't realized how much she was counting on him denying it.

"No." He answered once she had stepped out of sight, still staring down at his fingers, fidgeting slightly.

She snorted again, shaking her head, but stopped moving forward. "And if I asked her?" she inquired sharply, turning to look at the back of his head.

He stood and faced her, running a hand through his hair roughly. "I… We…" he stumbled for a moment. "She's fallen asleep next to me in my bed, but that's as far as it went. And it was a long time ago."

She raised an eyebrow at him in silent challenge, but he met her gaze steadily. "Have you ever seen her naked?" she asked softly.

Castle's eyebrow quirked as a smile flitted briefly across his face. "Well, yes, but…"

She turned on her heel toward the door again.

"Beck… Kate. Wait. Let me put it in context at least." He called after her, taking a step around the table to be closer, holding out a hand to entreat her.

"Oh, I think I have plenty of context," she sneered, but she slowed her walking again. Only three more steps to the door, but she let him catch her, tug on her arm, pulling her to the couch on the other side of the room.

She sat primly on the edge of the couch, weariness in her every feature. Through the blinds, Castle could see the boys peering into the break room from their desks.

"Okay, Castle: context. Who is Inara?"


	14. Sugar

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

Bah! Not sure what to think of this chapter. End of the story approaching soon-ish (I hope… if it lets me finish it nicely). Hope ya'll enjoy it :)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 14: Sugar

Castle sank back into the cushions before turning to face her, unsure of exactly where to start, only sure that wherever he did decide would be wrong.

"Inara has always been beautiful," he mused, "But not quite so… alluring."

Beckett stiffened more, if possible, but waited him out. Castle paused, regrouping his thoughts again, his gaze bouncing around the break room.

"Growing up, I bounced around a lot. Mother following where the work was. I went from public schools to private schools to boarding schools when she was married to a rich man that didn't want me around, to home school when her jobs moved around too much." He sucked in a breath, sneaking a look at Beckett. Her brow was creased slightly, but she had relaxed at his 'story teller' voice.

"We moved continuously, never settled in one part of the city. New men, new schools, new apartments wove through my childhood. The one constant was the backstage. The kids there, their lives were all the same, not knowing where they'd move to next, if their parents would make enough for rent, for dinner. We formed our own community. Even though we were constantly being shifted around, we managed to bond and sometimes, if we were lucky, to keep in contact." He stopped, lost in memories of darkened musty rooms that smelled of sweat and old wood, the dim back lights and racks of gaudy costumes. Somehow Inara fit into all of this…

"That's where I met Inara. She was seven, and I was going on twelve. Her father was the director of the play Mother was in – I don't even remember what it was. She had some minor role as a – servant, maybe? This was well before she made it big. Inara was all curly brown hair, long eyelashes and big brown eyes. And she was so delicate looking, and just… you've seen her bone structure, and with how small she was, how gracefully she moved, she almost didn't seem real. Like an angel or something.

"The day I met her, we were playing hide and seek on the catwalks. I was guarding the ladder to make sure the adults didn't catch us, and refused to let her up. She was too small, too nicely dressed, obviously belonged to someone important. I mean, one of the crew's kids get hurt, we might get in trouble. The director's kid gets hurt, our parents get fired. None of us were willing to risk that.

"So there she was, hands on her hips and nose in the air demanding that I let her up, and making entirely too much noise, while I'm trying to convince her that it's to dangerous for her, that she's too little. Which was, by the way, the wrong thing to say.

"One of the other boys heard the argument and came down the ladder behind me and pushed her, called her names. And at that point, what was I supposed to do?" He shrugged helplessly at Beckett, whose posture had relaxed at least a little, though she still was not leaning against the back of the couch.

"You punched him, didn't you?" she asked, the hint of a smile on her lips.

His eyes twinkled in response. "And you know what?" He sounded affronted.

Beckett knew what she would have done in the little girl's place. "She slipped up the ladder while you were distracted."

"The little sneak." Castle agreed, grinning. "But still, from that point on, I couldn't *not* defend her, though she hardly needed it, most of the time."

"So how did you end up sleeping together?" she prompted sleepily after a moment, leaning back and half closing her eyes, more confident in him, in his answer than she had been, but still needing to hear it.

"We were between apartments at the time. One of the night security men found us on our second night camping out at the theatre."

Kate shot him a look. She forgot sometimes that he hadn't always been the playboy millionaire. But to grow up knowing you're half a step from being out in the street. She'd never imagined…

"He called the director, who was a handsome, single, rich male. And mother being mother, and, well… we ended up living with them for just over a year and a half.

"On performance nights, we were often left home to fend for ourselves. This is, by the way, where more of my interesting food creations came from, with both of us experimenting with whatever we happened to have on hand. One of those nights, we had the brilliant idea have a horror movie marathon, and dye our popcorn red so it looked like guts. I still do that from time to time." He grinned at her, but her eyes had closed completely.

"At one in the morning, our parents still hadn't made it home, but people in the other apartments were crashing around, so she came and stood in my doorway looking for all the world like one of those token creepy not-so-innocent little girls that somehow make it into all horror movies, backlit by the hall light. Except she had tears running down her face and was truly pitiful, so for the whole next week, I had this tiny child curled up to me in my bed.

"After that, whenever she had a nightmare or her dad came home drunk and angry, she'd end up in my room, and I'd weave her stories about far away places with spies and princesses and dragons. Sometimes I wonder if that's why she went into the career she did."

"Why's that?" Kate asked from next to him, leaning closer. Some point in the middle of this, she'd started trusting him again, finding herself caught up in his story and losing the space she'd purposely put between them.

He'd almost forgotten she was there, so lost in memories he'd been.

"She's so full of wanderlust. It's why she became an ambassador. She wanted to see the world. Wanted the adventure." He sighed sadly at that, glancing over at his partner, whose head had drifted almost to his shoulder. He reached an arm over, wrapping it around her and tugged her close, so her head rested against his chest. Her eyes blinked open, waiting for him to continue, somehow knowing he wasn't finished. He took a moment to reveal in her not pulling away.

"She got it. Everything she wanted, and it changed her." A desolate tone in his voice.

"How so?" Kate murmured into his shirt.

"Everything is calculated. Every move fully plotted out for the response it will evoke. They used her, refined her, twisted her innocent beauty into something they could use."

He smoothed his hand down her arm.

"Not just an _ambassador_, a seductress, a companion for lonely old fools. She gains their confidence, steals their secrets. What man could resist her? But she's fake, an unobtainable fantasy, because she'd sooner lie than tell the truth. I think she's forgotten how to be real and honest, she's lived so long with the artifice. It took a while, but I think she's finally knows that I'm one of the few – maybe the only one – that she can't get away with lying to. I learned all her tells long before she developed the mask that covers them. And that means she can trust me, that I'm safe because she *can* be honest with me because she has to be.

"What she's involved in now… She's in over her head. She's scared, and that terrifies me. I haven't seen her scared since those silly movies. And I hate her job. The first time she came back, telling me about her assignments, about the travel, glowing from the adventure, the challenge, the power of it all, I was angry. I called her a whore. Selling herself for her job. The job isn't worth it. I still feel that way about it, but I've learned not to say it, but it's gotten her into a mess this time."

Kate hummed into his chest, letting him know she was still awake, still listening, but he was lost in thought and had nothing else to add. He looked down at her curled halfway into his side, and tugged her over further, hoping she wouldn't resist. She's exhausted, and half asleep already, if not more, which is the only reason, he is sure, that he now has a lapful of sleepy Kate.

Tentatively he ran a hand over her head, skinning lightly over smooth hair and tugging out her ponytail to run his fingers through her wavy hair. Honestly he was as exhausted as she was and had stopped knowing where the lines were hours ago when she had shown up looking lost at his door.

At some point she would wake up and possibly – no, probably – be angry with him for some of this. All of this? For her showing up at the precinct still wearing his shirt, for him being prepared for that with his daughter's shirt, for the mark he'd left on her smooth skin. Gently he ran a thumb over it, smiling quietly to himself. And then there was this: the barely kiss they had exchanged in front of the boys, and her falling slowly asleep in his lap at three in the morning on the lumpy break room couch. When this was over, and she'd finally had a chance to catch her breath, she'd probably even be upset about him telling her he loved her, and more so for him saying that she loved him.

It was too much, too fast, and given half the chance, he'd bet that she'd take it all back and pretend it never happened. But as it was, she shifted against him, nuzzling her head against his ribs, and he couldn't help but lean over and drop a soft kiss on her forehead, smiling as her lips twitched faintly.

When he lifted his head, he caught sight of Ryan in the doorway gesturing with both pointer fingers toward the elevator like a runway director and mouthing, "We're going to go." Castle gave a short nod before turning his attention back to the sleeping form in his lap.

Three short hours later, Castle twitched awake to the sound of frantic mumbling. Groggily he opened his eyes, blinking at the dim yellow lights of the room. He was laying down, scrunched up on something rough and lumpy. There was a tightness in his chest, and the sudden realization that he had no idea where he was. Immediately, the feeling of claustrophobia and panic filled him. But before he could do more than blink a couple of times, the weight on his chest shifted with a garbled, "No, whaaii… nuhh," in an all to familiar voice.

Heart still pounding rapidly, but no longer panicking, he looked down his body at the figure laying on top of him. Some time during the night, he had slid down the couch into a supine position, pulling Kate more fully on top of him. She had one arm tucked up by his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist and her forehead squarely on his sternum. Both his arms were wrapped around her back, so he began rubbing wide circles around her shoulder blades, whispering soothing nothings into her hair.

When her agitation only increased, he raised his voice closer to a normal speaking level. "Hey, Kate, you're okay. It's okay. I got you."

Her grip on him tightened momentarily and then relaxed as her breathing evened out. After a moment, she turned her head, propping her chin on his chest. "Castle?" she asked.

He gave her a boyish grin. "Good morning, detective."

"Mmuuhh." She grumbled. "What time is it?"

"A little after six. You should probably get home to shower and get a change of clothes – maybe even take another nap? before everyone starts coming back in."

"No, I'm good." Beckett began, sliding off of him to sit on the edge of the couch. "I just." She glanced down at her outfit – the pants she wore yesterday through the warehouse, and Alexis' now-crumpled t-shirt. "Oh, yeah. Right. You too. See you in a couple hours?"

He nodded, giving her a lazy, tired smile, and continued laying there, watching her as she stood and crossed to the bullpen and gathered a few things from her desk. A few minutes later when he managed to drag himself away from the couch, he stopped by her desk to pick up his shirt, but it's no longer there. Grinning, he heads for the elevators.

"Oh, that's disgusting!" she proclaimed, pulling her cardboard coffee cup away and glaring at it.

It was ten that morning when Castle strode back in to the 12th, holding a tray of coffee for the three detectives, as well as a bag of pastries. The detectives were in their usual position, gathered around the murder board, tossing around ideas. He had joined them, setting the drink holder onto Detective Beckett's desk before leaning against it beside her.

"Oh, sorry – that's mine." Castle reached for his coffee, finding hers still in the holder and trading her.

"What are you? A hummingbird?" Laughing disdain laced her voice. "You want some coffee with your sugar?"

Castle grinned, opened his mouth to make a smart remark. But a thought hit him.

"Oh! But what if?" Castle exclaimed excitedly.

Beckett shot him a look, waiting for him to continue.

"Sugar!" Ryan interjected.

Esposito and Beckett shot Ryan a confused look, but Castle's grin had, if possible, grown even larger.

"Exactly! Mix in a little Pax into the sugar bowls at the gala, and they poison themselves. That's so twisted!"

"And it's easy enough to avoid it if you know it's there." Beckett continued the thought.

"As long as they leave early enough, they are safe from the aggressive effects…" Castle mused.

"But the event is long enough that anyone who *didn't* know," Beckett jumped in, "still has a high risk of being murdered, even if they don't…"

"…Drink the Kool-aid," Castle interrupted, grinning.

"So how do we stop it?" Esposito broke the moment, having roughly followed their conversation.

"Wait…" Beckett turned to Castle, ignoring the detective for a moment, "didn't Inara say something last night? I remember you asking her about sugar…"

"No. She was calling me… Oh. Oh…" Castle stumbled to a halt. "She knew. She was telling me… I didn't realize."

"So guys." Esposito cut in again. " How do we stop it?"


	15. Spice

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

The end is near! It took me a couple weeks to figure out where I wanted to go with the rest of this story, and then a few more to figure out how to wrap it up after that. Now the only issue is getting it into a coherent story. Probably one or two more chapters after this. And why am I finally writing now? That's right. I should be studying.

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 15: Spice

Esposito hung up the phone with a sigh somewhere between annoyance and relief.

Beckett looked over at him from her perch on her desk in front of the murder board, feet resting in Castle's chair. The author walked back from the break room, coffee in hand, pausing to give his attention to the Latino detective.

"The FBI will be here shortly. As will the CDC. And homeland security. They expect us to cooperate."

Castle finished making his way to pass the steaming ceramic mug to his partner, wrapping an arm around her as she sighed and leaned heavily into his side, too tired to care who else was in the bullpen. Three hour's on the break room couch had left her groggy and achy.

"Does sleeping count as cooperating?" Ryan asked, speaking everyone else's thoughts. The usually chipper detective had faded noticeably after several solid hours of tracking down dead-end leads, researching records and calling in favors. His hair was mussed and his red-rimmed eyes had bags beneath them.

"Debrief me first, and then yes, by all means, go home. You're no good to my team if you're dead on your feet," came the brusque reply as Agent Jordan Shaw rounded the corner.

"Jordan!" Castle exclaimed jovially as he disentangled from Beckett, making sure she wouldn't lose balance when he stepped away. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he continued, coming forward a step to wrap her in a bear hug.

He stepped back as more agents filled the space around the detectives' desks. Castle waited until the agents were gathered around the low-tech murder board and glanced at his team, but they seemed content to let him do the talking. Content, even, to give up their case. He'd never seen the team so passive. They needed to get out of here.

"Okay, so previously on:…" and he launched into an explanation of the information before them, concluding with their suspicions about the gala and the impending attack.

.

"Alright. Go home. I will call you when I need something. Until then, I want all of you to go get some rest. Castle, Beckett, are you two willing to attend the gala? I will do everything in my power to prevent it from becoming a necessity, but…" she trailed off, watching the tired couple as they wavered on their feet.

"We'll be there, Agent Shaw, if you need us," Beckett confirmed with an attempt at a smile.

"Good. Okay." Agent Shaw turned back to her own people, giving clipped orders as the detectives found their way to the elevator.

.

Hours later, Castle jerked awake with an "oomph" as something pointed crashed into his sternum. A heavy weight pressed down on him, warm and gently angular, almost soft, except where it dug into his chest. A buzzing, something electronic vibrating against wood came from a few feet away from his head. The weight draped across his body shifted and bounced slightly, a plaintive hum rattled against his chest as something silky slid across his face, catching on his stubble.

The slight give beneath him and the smell of leather he recognized as his couch as the weight above him shifted again, releasing the pressure on his ribs, followed by a clatter of something solid - and maybe plastic? - hitting the floor and continuing to make noise. Blearily his eyes blinked open, shut, and then opened again to see Kate lying across his chest feebly attempting to scoop her phone from the ground.

With a sound more akin to a growl than triumph, she grasped the elusive device and brought it to her ear.

"Beckett." She mumbled into it. "Uugh… uh huh. 'N hour. Got it. Yeah. I'll tell him. Her answers becoming more coherent.

"It's okay, I can let him know. No, don't wake the boys unless you need them. I trust your backup, Jordan."

By this time, Rick was more fully awake, slowly running his hand through her hair, brushing it out of his face. "We going in?" he asked gruffly, sleep making his mouth feel numb.

He felt her head nod against his chest in response to him before she said, "Yeah, he's here with me. Okay. Bye."

.

Thirty minutes later, Kate descended the stairs from his guest bedroom where she had laid out her dress they had stopped and picked up from her apartment on their way to the loft.

Rick straightened from where he had been rearranging books and magazines on his coffee table. The impulse to clean, to do something productive instead of pacing nervously had overcome him ten minutes previous when he had emerged from his room fully clothed in his formal attire. The nervous energy drained out of him at the sight of her.

Now, he couldn't move, could barely breathe.

"You look…" he trailed off, eyes running over her figure, draped as it was in a stunning black dress that clung to her waist and flared out at her hips. She stilled on the last step of his stairway as he made his assessment of her outfit, holding her breath as she waited for his pronouncement.

His sharp blue eyes made their way down her long legs, her impossibly high stilettos before returning to her face, studying the details of her hair, pulled up high on her head, leaving her neck exposed, makeup expertly covering the mark he had left on her there, the dramatic, smoky makeup of her eyes that didn't so much disguise the exhaustion as distracted one from it with the intensity of her beauty. But her face was devoid of expression, weighed down as it was under a mask of stress and determination.

His eyes said 'stunning, breathtaking, gorgeous,' but his mouth rebelled. "Like you could use a shot of whiskey."

A spark of life darted through her eyes, pulling briefly at the corner of her mouth as she exhaled an almost laugh. "Yeah, actually. If you're offering."

She stepped down, toward him, fingers trailing on the banisher behind her, the tight almost smile lingering on her lips. But her eyes were predatory as they skimmed across his shoulders and chest, the well tailored fit of his jacket, the cut of his pants and shine of his shoes. Her eyes caught a glint of gold at his wrists.

Everything about him, from the clothes to his build, to the sharp angles of his face, made more pronounced in the weary exhaustion that creased his eyes and the corners of his mouth spoke of power and strength and wealth. It radiated off of him and she couldn't help but to be drawn closer to him in slow, gliding steps, her heels silent on his hardwood floors.

"You look…" She reached him, her hand raised involuntarily to rest on the lapel of his jacket, smoothing down it. His scent, the scent of his cologne enveloped her, musky and warm, a hint of spice. She took a deep breath, holding onto the feeling of security, of protection his nearness afforded her.

She watched her hand rest on his chest, feeling the steady pounding of his heart, the pulse of blood, of life, through his arteries and veins beneath her palm. A slow exhale and she raised her eyes to meet his again. Everything she couldn't say pouring out in her expression.

"You look like you could use one, too."

.

"Okay, what do you need from us?"

She sat beside him in the back of his town car, her left hand twined with his and resting on his thigh. A warmth glowed in her stomach that she knew had little to do with the alcohol swirling in her system and everything to do with the man sitting next to her. Her right hand fiddled with the near-invisible radio transmitter in her ear.

"You replaced the catering company's sugar. It tested positive for the Pax, but nothing else in the kitchen did. So it's gone. Shouldn't be a threat. Okay." She repeated for Castle's benefit, as well as to confirm the intel.

"Altered how?" Her voice suddenly hard as ice.

Beside her, Castle squeezed her hand gently, and she realized she'd been digging her nails into the back of his hand.

"Oh," she gasped, loosening her grip and mouthing, "sorry," to him.

"Wait. Repeat that." She demanded seconds later, her fingers clenching at his.

"Shortened reaction time? How short?" her eyes glared around the interior of the vehicle, not seeing her surroundings, focused entirely on the conversation in her ear. "They altered the Pax to shorten the time between exposure and reaction to 3 minutes?"

Castle's eyes shot to her face, but she was lost in the conversation he couldn't hear, her expression indecipherable. He had the sudden impulse to tell his driver to turn the car around, that nevermind, this wasn't worth it after all.

But the sound of her voice interrupted his thoughts.

"If it isn't an issue, then why are you telling me? What exactly do you need us to do?"

A long pause in which she relaxed her grip again long enough that feeling started returning to his hand.

"Ambassador Chang? Keep an eye on him. Okay. And Inara. Yes. I think by now that goes without saying. Okay Jordan."

.

The radio in here ear went silent and she was grateful, absurdly grateful, for the ten minute's reprieve to gather her thoughts and bask in the illusion of safety the dark and warmth of the vehicle.

Turning toward Castle, she tucked her bare shoulder into his side, peering up at him from under long lashes. She wondered briefly if there was anything left she needed to tell him in the privacy of their car. Anything she didn't mind Jordan and her entire team overhearing. She met his eyes. His gaze on her was clear and soft, blue eyes bright in the dim light. The tenderness there near overwhelming.

Their entwined hands had slid up his leg as she turned and were now tucked snuggly between their hips, the twill of his pants soft and smooth against the back of her hand as his nearness radiated heat through her silky satin dress.

Nope, nothing more to say, she decided, enjoying the peaceful silence as his other hand came up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, thumb gently caressing her cheekbone as his fingers skimmed the ridge of her ear, lingering lightly against her hair. She turned her face into his neck, resting against him, careful not to smudge his collar with lipstick.

Her eyelashes brushed against the side of his neck, soft and delicate, her forehead against the angle of his jaw, her hair brushing the bottom of his ear. He felt her muscles relax against him, sinking into him.

"You fading out on me?" he whispered, his breath across her hair.

A puff of warm air against the side of his throat, ghosting down his collar and a soft hum he recognized as laughter he couldn't hear, but could feel as a vibration in his chest was his only answer for a long moment. Then she tilted her head up slightly, placing a careful kiss against the underside of his jaw, whispering, "no," against his skin.

He gave a contented hum and ran a hand down her arm. His palm was rough with calluses she was certain had not been there when she met him. When had that changed?

Catching his hand with her free one, she twined her fingers over his, pressing her fingers into his palm and pulled their joined hands to press high against her chest, his knuckles grazing her collarbone, palm pressed against her sternum, her heart drumming steadily against his hand.

A deep breath, and then two, the lull of the wheels shushing on the cement, a light mist starting to come down, only to be sprayed up again by the tires on the road. Then the car slowed, stopped.

Castle pulled away, dropping a tender kiss to her temple. "We're here. You ready?"


	16. Shindig

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle (or Firefly)

**A World Without Sin**

Chapter 16: Shindig

"Richard! You came!"

A smoky-eyed female in an alluring deep green dress embraced him loosely, ignoring the woman whose hand was clenched in his grip. Kate suppressed a shiver as the woman's gold and green silk shawl brushed lightly against her arm.

Inara, pressing her cheek to Castle's in an air kiss, her lips at his ear, whispered darkly, "You really shouldn't have." She leaned her lithe body further into his space, feeling him shudder at the threat.

With a breathy laugh and a smile that didn't reach her eyes, she pulled away to catch their eyes. "Now darlings, let me show you to our table."

.

Opulent did not begin to describe the hard wood and marble banquet hall that danced with candle light. Kate's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the majestic chandelier in the center of the room. Crystals sent sparks of rainbowed light glittering through the entire room, catching and reflecting off the wine glasses and casting a soft glow on the rest of the room.

The crowd of dignitaries forced them to a halt halfway to their destination. A young woman in a frilled pink dress slid past them, her arm tucked snuggly into that of an officer in dress uniform.

"Oh!" Kate heard her gasp. "Strawberries!" The girl sounded clearly delighted.

"Come on Captain Tightpants!" The girl teased the young man, pulling him forward as his cheeks flushed.

Biting back a smile, Kate couldn't help follow the couple with her eyes, tracing the outline of the man's form in his well-cut suit.

Feeling a squeeze on her hand, Kate turned to find Castle grinning at her. "Do I need to find a pair of tight pants?" he leered.

Blushing at being caught out, Kate let out a startled laugh. With a twinkle in her eyes, she fell back a step, giving his backside a slow perusal before raising her eyes back to him, lifting a suggestive eyebrow and giving him a saucy smile.

"So hot." He whispered, delighted.

She dropped his hand to lean into him, running her fingers down his side as she brought her lips to his ear.

"Exactly what I was thinking, Mr. Castle." She murmured.

He gapped at her for a long moment, then stumbled after her as Inara found a gap in the crowd.

As they neared their table, a man seated there glared up at them, an impatient sneer painted across his face.

"Ambassador Reynolds, I have been searching everywhere for you," he scolded.

Rising, he brushed a gloved hand down the khaki slacks of his dress uniform, smoothing out unseen wrinkles before offering his arm to Inara.

"Atherton," Inara acknowledged demurely with a slight nod of her head, delicately wrapping her fingers around the inside of his elbow. As they turned to leave, Inara glanced back at the couple.

"If you could watch my things while I am gone." Her voice, barely heard over the crowd was half soft seduction, half demand, completely impersonal, as she slipped further into her role as ambassador.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and glided into the crowd.

Leaning into Castle, chin at his shoulder, her shoulder pressed lightly into the edge of his scapula, Kate watched him as his eyes followed the woman, distrust painting his features. From his expression, he had a half-formed suspicion, but she waited him out, feeling the play of his muscles along his arm as he ran his fingers repeatedly across the back of his chair.

Abruptly the movement stopped, his muscles tensing.

"What is it?" she murmured against his collar, bringing a hand up to rest against the small of his back.

His mouth tightened as the woman he was watching disappeared through a side door, followed by a stocky Asian man matching Ambassador Chang's description. As the door drifted closed behind them, Castle's eyes snapped back to his partner's. Opening his mouth as if to speak, his eyes suddenly widened, jaw dropping slightly.

Jerking forward causing Beckett to stumble into his back, he fumbled for Inara's clutch she had left in his possession.

"Why would any woman leave her…" he was mumbling under his breath as his fingers fought the clasp. All his muscles went ridged when he finally pulled the tiny purse open. Jolting back, he knocked into Beckett as she tried to see into the object in his hand. Reeling, Beckett clutched at his sleeve as he scanned the room with frantic eyes.

"No. No, no, no!" he muttered as the lights in the hall dimmed and a man with a sash stepped up to the podium at the front of the hall.

"Castle." No response. "Rick! Talk to me."

The fear in his eyes when he met hers had her stumbling back another step. She felt him breath in, calming himself, the fear replaced with steely resolve. It was a look she had grown all too familiar with over the years. He was about to do something brilliantly stupid and hopefully save their lives. Again. And if he failed, at least they were going down together. She relaxed slightly, trusting him.

He sent one final glance around the room, then pulled his chair out and tugged her down to the ground with him. "Under the table. The Pax is in the air vents."

Ducking under the tablecloth, she hoped nobody had noticed their sudden disappearance.

Castle followed after her, spending a moment to tuck the chair back in place.

In the darkness, she could see nothing, so she turned toward the noise of him shuffling closer to her. "How…" she whispered, and then his hand was there, covering her mouth with a cloth, his other hand running through her hair, cupping the base of her skull, and then his hands were gone, his voice next to her ear.

"Shhh… They're releasing the Pax. Inara and most of the Chinese Embassy just left. Hopefully, they won't find us."

She inhaled, and there was a chemically taste in the back of her throat. Castle wrapped himself around her, pulling her down to lay on the floor, tucking her into a tight ball and covering her with his body. Her limbs felt warm and heavy with a tingling in her head and a loose floating sensation in her chest and stomach. She'd never felt so free. The light she'd began to see at the edge of the tablecloth began to fade out, and she wasn't sure if it was because the lights were dimming, or her eyes were sliding shut, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"Hey, Rick." She whispered, barely a breath, but she knew he could hear her, felt his eyelashes brush against her skin, his chest move in a sigh. Sounds were fading out around them, conversations falling silent. "I just.. I do lo…" her voice drifted off, her eyes sliding shut.

And then the screaming started.


End file.
